


Mere Force Is Feebleness

by sitabethel



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: 30 years post canon, DSOD verse (more or less), Demiromantic, Euroshipping, Grief, M/M, Magic, Post canon, Thiefshipping, demisexual, magical mind link, typical sita bethel(tm) ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2019-11-13 19:18:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 88,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18037310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sitabethel/pseuds/sitabethel
Summary: All magic has a cost, has limits, has consequences.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *Me riding into the Alchemy of Thiefshipping collection on a Gold Chocobo five months late and with an ice cold Frappe in my hand: Sorry, traffic was bad*  
> \--------------------------
> 
> This is for G. No serve para nada, cabron. I told you (specifically) not to make me go to your funeral before I was 50. I fucking miss you so damn much, G. 
> 
> \---------------------------
> 
> Shawn James, The Thief and The Moon:
> 
> "Said the Thief to the Moon, "I'll extinguish your light soon  
> I'll put an end to all the light that you shed on this world in its darkened state."
> 
> Said the Moon to the Thief, " You know not of what you seek, you'll doom the world to wander the night with no light to guide the paths that men seek."
> 
> Thief: "Oh, but all the wealth in the world will be mine...  
> Without a means of defence for all those blind  
> My very existence is a race to attain wealth  
> For the thief's only loyalty in life is to the devil and himself."
> 
> Moon: "The earth will rise up and devour all that you are  
> The skies will call forth thunderous storms from afar  
> When you're dead, there'll be no grave to remember your name  
> For your greed brings your end and  
> There's no one but yourself to blame."

He opened his eyes.

The white stabbed into his brain.

He shut his eyes.

 _Bakura_ …

The voice sounded far away. Bakura fumbled, grabbing his head with both hands. It’d been too long in the darkness. He couldn’t stand it, the light. 

“Bakura.”

The voice hovered next to his ear. He blinked, but couldn’t see. Everything was a stark white blur. 

“Hurts,” he muttered. 

It was not something he would usually admit, but this was unlike any other pain he’d ever known. It swelled and expanded in his skull, threatening to shatter the bone and ooze brains down his hair. 

Bakura pulled a chunk of hair in front of his face. The light dimmed. A few shadows came into focus. He couldn’t see the hair, but it was long and soft, heavy and familiar, but too long compared to the last time he existed in his own living body. 

“You’ve been in the Shadow Realm for a long time. Give yourself a minute.” 

A gentle touch on his shoulders. Only one person in the world was so gentle. 

“Ryou?” 

“We’re both here.”

 _We’re both here_. Bakura wasn’t sure what the words meant. He looked up, but only saw two silhouettes for his efforts. Bakura closed his eyes again. 

“What happened?”

“You lost, idiot. I told you you’d fucking lose. You should have listened to me.” 

A grating voice. Malik. Bakura snorted. 

“Shut up, Ishtar. My head hurts enough without your bitching.” 

“Your headache is your fault for being an idiot.” 

Bakura grunted, but otherwise ignored Malik. Washed out gray tones seeped into his vision. It was like watching a Polaroid develop in slow motion. More contrast now. Warm colors bled in first—red, then orange, then yellow. An upside down rainbow sinking into Bakura's brain and smearing everything with faded hues, slowly, slowly intensifying.

“This isn't your apartment,” Bakura said as a room full of games and bookshelves came into view. Bakura lay stretched on the velvet padding of a billiard table. 

“That was a long time ago, Bakura,” Ryou said, his voice a soft blessing on Bakura's throbbing skull. “We're at the Kaiba estate.” 

“Why?” Bakura asked. He couldn't think of a logical reason for them to be there.

“I live here.” 

“Why?” 

“For the obvious reason, you fool,” Malik snapped before Ryou had a chance to answer.

“No fucking way.” Bakura held his head, shutting his eyes again. Everything still glowed too brightly. “Turn off those fucking lights. I feel like there's a knife in your brain… my brain?”

“As if you had a brain.” Malik snorted. “And there's no way we're turning off the lights. You can suffer. You deserve it, you bastard.” 

“Oh don't get holy with me. Last we met, you were running a crime ring.” 

“That was 30 years ago,” Ryou said.

Bakura blinked, trying to focus on Ryou's face, but theharsh light denied him a proper glimpse. Bakura couldn't understand how anyone thought light was good. It stabbed. It burned. It pried him a part. It was no better than the darkness. 

“30 years isn't so much for me, but if you were going to bring me back, why wait this long?” He snorted. “For that matter, why even bring me back? You do realize you just reset the game, don't you?” 

“Bakura,” Ryou said, “The Pharaoh moved on right after he defeated you. The Items are in a museum. There's no way for—”

“There's _always_ a way, host. I've stolen the Items before, and I can steal them agai—”

“Not with my sister as the Minister for Antiquities you can't!” Malik shifted, sitting in front of Bakura and leaning close. “Listen. I'm sure to you the last 30 years has been a power nap in the shadows, but for the rest of us—it's been most our lives. We've all grown the fuck up. We've all moved the fuck on. Don't you think it's time you do the same?” 

“Move on to _what_?” Bakura snarled. “I don't have siblings. My family is in a museum trapped in those Items, and they need justice for their murder.”

“Atem moved on.” Ryou sighed, he sounded weary. “Let the gods judge him and take care of your people.”

“If you have a single ounce of faith in those favorites-playing sons-of-whores, then you're more naïve than I thought, host.”

“Bakura, this is the last chance we can give you. Do you understand? If you waste this on hatred we can't—”

“It really has been 30 years, hasn't it?” 

His eyes finally focused enough for him to see in detail. Ryou's hair was in a sloppy bun, but two wings poked up from the top. A hint of shadow clung below Ryou's magenta eyes, surrounded by laugh lines. He glanced over at Malik, searching for gray hair. He didn't see any, but was shocked at the other ways Malik had changed.

“Damn you got thick, Ishtar. You look like you could bench press Baldy.” 

Bakura had a strong urge to reach out and stroke Malik's biceps. He didn't think he'd be able to get his hands fully around them. Then there was Malik's chest peeking out from the sleeveless, wine-colored shirt. His pecs were so hard they'd make a marble statue jealous.

“Your body is also our age.” Ryou turned on his phone camera and passed it to Bakura so he could see himself. “Specifically, Malik’s age.”

“Why?” Bakura glanced at himself. 

He expected to look like Ryou. His skin was the same alabaster color of his former host instead of his darker, desert-born skin tone. It failed to prepare him for what he saw on the phone screen. He didn't have circles under his eyes. His cheeks were fuller. He looked similar to Ryou but somehow more… lively. It was wrong somehow, for Bakura to look healthier than Ryou. Bakura's eyes darted back and forth between the two of them, wondering at the difference.

“It's how the magic worked,” Ryou said.

“I assumed, but why specifically Ishtar?”

Ryou and Malik exchanged a glance. Ryou had a look in his eye and Malik sighed.

“We needed an anchor to the living for us to bring you back, and I volunteered. You're my age because you'll only live as long as I do. That is, as long as you don't do anything foolish and get yourself killed sooner.”

“And if I die sooner? What happens to you?”

“We… don't know,” Ryou answered. “The spell didn't mention.” 

“Okay. What the fuck is going on here? You wait 30 years. Bring me back. Tether me to Malik Ishtar of all people. And a moment ago you both exchanged a glance. What is this all about?” 

“I've always regretted never being able to save…” Ryou's voice cracked. “A lot of people. But while they have all moved on, you were stuck in the Shadow Realm, so I wanted to give you one last chance.” Ryou squeezed Bakura's hands. “Please accept this gift. Please use this _third chance_ to live the life you were denied the first time.” 

Bakura narrowed his eyes and turned to Malik. Malik shrugged.

“We treated Ryou like garbage in Battle City. I wanted a chance to atone.”

“So you did this for him? What am I? Your punishment?”

“More or less.” Malik smirked.

“Fuck this.” Bakura shoved himself to his feet. “I'm stealing everything I can carry and taking the first plane to Luxor.” 

“Bakura, let it go,” Ryou whisper, his voice thin and perhaps a little strained.

“Let it go.” Bakura's laugh echoed in the room. “I have another chance for vengeance and you want me to what? Get a job? Live like a human?”

“You _are_ human.” Malik shook his head.

“Hardly.” Bakura snorted.

“Bakura, listen- _oh…”_ Ryou stood but doubled over and gripped his head. His face wrinkled as if in pain. Malik jumped up, grabbing his shoulders, but Ryou shook his head _no_. “I'm fine. The spell took a lot out of me, but I'll be fine.”

“You should rest,” Malik said.

“I will after—”

“I'll talk to him. Go lie down.”

Ryou nodded, giving Bakura a hurt glance before wandering out a side door. Malik marched to Bakura, grabbed his arm, and pulled him into the hallway.

“Okay asshole, let's go on a walk and have a little chat.”

“Let's go to Egypt and steal the Items. You can't be serious about that humanity crap. What ever happened to your goals of surpassing the Pharaoh?” 

“A real king takes care of his kingdom, and my friends and family have become my kingdom. All the pharaohs in Egypt are dead, Bakura.” 

“Not truly. One death isn't good enough. They need the Second Death. _The final death._ You say family is a man's kingdom? Well, the Pharaoh razed my kingdom to the ground, and I deserve retribution.” 

“We did everything we could.” Malik slammed his palm against the wall beside them. “All of us. Yugi sponsored a huge charity tournament for the restoration of the Kul Elna. People still live there, they built onto the ruins, but the abject poverty was—”

“Par for the course,” Bakura interrupted.

“Not anymore. Kaiba Corp set up a manufacturing facility nearby, so there are more jobs available. KC industries are 100% green, so we didn't have to sacrifice the land in order to bolster the economy. Diva and Sara opened a school and orphanage Yugi used the money he raised to help support infrastructure, and sponsor the museum, and Ryou set up the memorial.”

“Memorial?”

“For the massacre. It has the Negative Confessions written on it, and we performed a opening of the mouth ritual—”

“ _Why_?” Bakura shrieked. 

“To make sure their souls crossed over.”

“ _Why? Why? Why do any of you care? They’re not your concern!”_

“Why are you screaming in the hallway? Gods’ sake, Bakura, they were _people_ and they were _wronged_ and _of course we care_.”

“That doesn’t make _any sense_.” Bakura smashed a fist against the wall, spun around, and marched off. 

He didn't know where he was going. Rage blinded him as much as the light had when he first came back. He continued to storm in a straight line until a door blocked his path. Not caring what was on the other side, Bakura burst through and realized he’d found the kitchen. It was huge, large enough to cook a banquet for every duelist in Domino City. His host must have been on cloud 9 the first time he saw it. 

At the thought of banquets, Bakura’s stomach growled. He didn’t see why he shouldn’t make himself at home, and rummaged through cupboards. Everything was staples. Flour, sugar, legumes, fancy jars of this and that. Bakura should have figured it’d be stocked for a professional chef, but if he knew his old host—and some things never changed, no matter how many years it had been—there would be a stash somewhere full of Pocky and rice crisps, and all Bakura had to do was search until he found it.

“The tallest shelf,” a voice said behind him. 

Bakura spun around, opening his mouth to shout at Malik, and stopped when he saw Kaiba. Kaiba had aged a little more than the other two. The silver streaks near his ears were noticeable, and his crows feet were a little harder. It was what people would call ‘distinguished,’ but to Bakura, who couldn’t remember anyone being in his life long enough to properly _age_ , it was jarring to see the (to him) sudden difference. 

Seto gestured with his chin. “What you’re looking for. Top cupboard in the corner. You’ll need the stool.” 

“No I won’t.” Bakura climbed onto the counter and balanced on his toes to reach the shelf. “How’d you know?” 

“I assumed. It’s why I find Ryou in here—when he wants a snack, but doesn’t want to bother the chef.” A smile tugged at the corner of Seto’s mouth. “Even after all these years of me telling him it’s why they’re paid, he’s still too polite to bother them after 6pm.” 

“Yeah, he’s ridiculous like that.” Bakura pulled down a box of Hello Panda, some chips, and some seaweed snacks. He sat cross legged on the counter, busting into the chips. “So what the hell are _you_ doing in the kitchen?”

“It’s my kitchen.”

“Should I make cocoa? You were never the type to have friendly chats in the kitchen, but I guess we can try.”

“What did Ryou tell you?”

“I’m going to have to hitchhike to Egypt and steal the Items again to bring back a certain Pharaoh, so I can kill him _properly_.” Bakura popped another chip into his mouth. 

“It won’t work you know.” Seto smirked. 

“I’ll have to case the museum, sure, but I’ll figure out a way.” 

“The Millenium Items aren’t the Dragon Balls. You can’t gather them together and make a wish. Atem’s soul isn’t in the Puzzle. It’s in _Aaru_. So what good are they?”

“Wow. I’m impressed.” Bakura snorted. 

Seto raised an eyebrow, questioning him. Bakura shrugged. 

“I’m amazed you know what the hell a Dragon Ball is.” 

“That doesn’t change the fact—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, thanks for the advice. I’ll keep it in mind.”

“I’m sure you will.” Seto’s expression didn’t change, nor did his tone. He was stoic as ever as he walked up to the counter and set a wrist band and ear piece next to Bakura. 

“What’s that? My tracking collar? Are you going to have me vaccinated next?” 

“We probably should, but for now, this is a device I’ve been working on. It will allow you to enter a virtual game I’ve created. It’s still in beta, but I was hoping to have it released by Ryou’s birthday.” 

“Touching.” Bakura slid the black bracelet and headpiece away.

“The game is based off of Monster World.” Kaiba turned to leave. “You’re Ryou’s guest, so I won’t kick you out of the mansion, but you _should_ do something useful if you’re going to be staying for awhile.” 

“Be useful? And ruin my perfect reputation? Never!” Bakura waved goodbye as Kaiba disappear. 

He dropped the empty chip bag to the floor and started on the seaweed snacks. The tiles below him were cream colored with little brown squares connecting the corners. The diversity of the pattern pissed him off.

“You literally have maids here, but it’s no excuse to make their lives more difficult.” Malik appeared, stooping low and snatching the bag. 

Bakura caught the small wince as he reached for the bag. He could almost feel it in his own back as he watched. Strange though, Bakura wasn’t the type for sympathy pains. He didn’t have time to ponder it because Malik was a never-ending conversation. 

“What are you _eating_? It’s green?”

“Seaweed crisps.” 

“What do they taste like?” Malik leaned over to stare in Bakura’s bag. 

“Here.” He shoved a square into Malik’s mouth. 

“Didn’t ask you to feed me.” Malik gave him an irritated glance as he chewed. 

“And I didn’t ask you to come bother me, but here we are.” 

“Oooooh, I’m such a bother.” Malik stole two more bits of dried nori. “These aren’t bad.” 

“Go away,” Bakura said. 

“I wasn’t done talking to you.”

“I was done talking to you. That’s why I left.” 

“You really can’t handle it, can you? Kindness. Did Zorc claw it out of you…” Malik leaned in a breath closer. “Or are you simply afraid of it?” 

“Go away.” 

“Isis also helped. She performed release rituals on the ka slabs. Only the gods remain. All the others stones are blank. Freed. Like I said, we did everything we could.” 

“I don’t care,” Bakura said, tossing his second bag onto the floor.

“I didn’t expect you to be grateful, but do you really have to be a complete asshole about it?” Malik grabbed the other chip bag. 

A jolt of discomfort stabbed through Bakura’s lower back. On reflex, his hand shot to his right side above his tailbone. He notice Malik holding the same spot. 

“Fuck,” Bakura swore.

“What?” Malik ignored Bakura as he tossed both bags into the trash. 

A knife block sat beside Bakura. He pulled the carving knife from the block. Malik tossed up both of his hands. 

“Stop, Bakura! I’m not sure what you’re about to do, but last time we were together—”

“Oh yes, that’s _precisely what I’m doing_.” Bakura licked the knife for nostalgia’s sake before giving a single slice to his left forearm. 

Malik hissed in pain as he grabbed his own forearm. Bakura laughed, holding out his arm and watching the blood drip on the floor. 

“Great. Fucking great. You idiots picked a bad spell to bring me back. We’re connected in more ways than our bodies’ ages.” 

“You make it sound like bringing back the dead is a Google search of opportunities. Quit dripping on the floor.” Malik grabbed a kitchen towel and wrapped Bakura’s arm. “Come on. There’s a fully staffed medical center on site.”

“Fuck, how rich _is_ Kaiba?” Bakura pulled his arm back. “I don’t need a doctor. I barely cut the skin.” 

“It hurts, Bakura.”

“Not that bad.” 

“It’s pissing me off. We’re getting it bandaged _now_.” 

“No doctors.” 

“Fine.” Malik rolled his eyes. “I’ll tell the staff to leave you alone, but let me bandage it.”

“Whatever.” Bakura hopped to the floor and Malik led him to the medical wing. 

Bakura frowned at the two nurses working on computers. Malik explained they needed bandages, and insisted they didn’t need help. Bakura understood Seto was rich, but something seemed… off, about the amount of equipment he saw. Even by Kaiba’s extreme standards, it was excessive.

“You’re more like a three-year-old than a three-thousand-year-old.” Malik held Bakura’s arm under running water to wash the blood away before dabbing it with a paper towel and smearing it with iodine. 

“I needed to see if my suspicion was correct or not.”

“You could have pinched your arm instead of cutting into it.” Malik pressed a cotton pad to Bakura’s cut and then wrapped it in gauze and tape. 

“My arm doesn’t hurt half as much as my back, so I don’t see why you’re being such a baby about it.”

Malik jerked his head, eyes wide and jaw slack. He closed his mouth. He looked vulnerable; Bakura turned away. 

“I—”

“I’m sorry. Maybe I wasn’t the best person.” Malik dropped Bakura’s arm, sighing and leaning against the counter. “We were so drunk last night, and Ryou begged Yug—”

“You brought me back on a drunk whim?” Bakura’s voice echoed in the quiet room. 

He glared at the nurses who starred at him, challenging them to say something. Arm bandaged, he stormed out of the medical center. Malik chased after him. 

“Why are you running away _this_ time?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you guys were perfectly happy with me being dead for 30 years, but decided to pull me out of the Shadow Realm the same way most people decide to go skinny-dipping or have a one-night stand.” 

“I imagine a one-night stand is much more enjoyable than dealing with you. And why would we bring you back? You’ve only been back an hour and you’ve done nothing but snarl and glare and cut yourself and jump right into your stupid plans for vengeance—”

“Avenging my village is not stupid!” Bakura spun on his heel to scream the words into Malik’s face. 

“I already explained—”

“Do you think your charity makes it better? Do you think a memorial wipes away all the pain they suffered as their ghosts screamed for redress that I would—time and again— fail to give them?”

“It’s over.” Malik grabbed Bakura, pulling him against Malik’s chest and stroking his hair. “I know it was awful. I’m sorry you went through it. It’s over.” 

Bakura fisted the material of Malik’s top. Bakura’s entire body shook. Exhaustion drained the last of his rage. He jerked away.

“I left my Hello Panda in the kitchen.” 

“If you go back to stealing, murdering, and scheming, you’re only going to prove to us every fear we ever had about bringing you back was right and we should have never done it,” Malik called from behind Bakura, but he no longer followed him. 

Bakura ignored Malik. He pressed the box of Hello Panda to his chest as if it were somehow plugging a hole. Bakura stood there, breathing. He hadn’t sucked air through his own lungs for thousands of years, and this pair worked better than the last, no wheezing, no burn, no tightness in his chest. It was strange. To breathe in his own body, and to do so without struggling. He couldn't process it. He needed a distraction. He saw the gaming band and ear piece on the counter, and decided it wouldn’t hurt to pocket them. 

Bakura didn’t know where to go. Surely Ryou didn’t bring him back to kick him out onto the streets, but the mansion was huge and there was no way to guess what room they intended to put him in, so he peeked through doors until he found what looked like a guest room and slipped inside. Bakura grabbed a pillow and the thinner blanket beneath the duvet off the top of the mattress. He smoothed the top cover so know one could tell he’d tampered with it and stuffed the stolen bedding beneath the bed before crawling under himself. 

Bakura reached into his empty pockets, frowning. He’d need to steal a pocket knife somehow. Bakura shimmied back from beneath the bed frame and gazed around the room. He saw a writing desk, and in the first drawer he checked, a ornate, silver letter opener. It would do. Bakura lay on his belly and shimmied below the bed again. He cut through the bottom of the box spring, creating a cubby for him to hide his Hello Panda. Then Bakura rolled himself up like temaki before falling asleep in the dark, closed-in space. 


	2. Chapter 2

Bakura woke with a start, not sure where he was. At first he thought the Shadow Realm because of the opaque black surrounding him, but there was a soft, goose down pillow beneath his head and a warm blanket wrapped around him. His stomach growled, and he remembered the Hello Panda, but Bakura didn’t like the idea of not having a stash, so he shimmied from below the bed and decided to creep to the kitchen. Ryou caught him in one of the myriad hallways. 

“There you are. You're like a frightened kitten disappearing and creeping out only to eat.” 

Bakura spun around. His sentence died on his lips when he saw Ryou.

“I know. I know. I look like a zombie.” Ryou turned away.

“What's wrong with you?” 

“I think I'm coming down with the flu or something.” 

Bakura narrowed his eyes. He was about to call Ryou out as a liar, but Malik's voice butted into their conversation.

“Where the hell have you been, Bakura? Seto couldn’t even find you on the security cameras.”

“What sort of thief would I be if I was noticed by security cameras?” Bakura smirked. 

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“It’s not bad enough we’re joined through magic, you want to be joined at the hip as well?” Bakura crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Malik told me about why you cut your arm.” Ryou sighed. “I’m sorry. It was the best spell I could find.” 

“Yes, and I’m sure you agonized over the options while three sheets to the wind.” 

“It wasn’t a drunken whim, Bakura. I’ve thought about bringing you back for years, but I… I needed help.”

“Why don’t you be grateful that we pulled you back at all, you self-centered prick.” Malik clenched his hands as he spoke. 

“Leave me alone.” Bakura spun around and continued on toward the kitchen. 

“You’re going the wrong way,” Ryou said.

“The kitchen is this way.”

“Yes, but the dining room is down this side hall.”

“Dining room? I don’t want to sit at a table like some asshole happy family. You had plenty of food in your stash for me to steal.” 

“Yes. You’re free to take as many bags of chips as you’d like.” Ryou walked down the side hallway. “It’s a shame you won’t be joining us, though. We had the chef prepare pork loin with roasted onions and garlic because I know you—”

“All right! I’ll eat at the table.”

“Wonderful.” Ryou smiled. 

The table was a kilometer long, but all the dishes were set up at the end near Seto. Ryou sat to Seto’s right, Malik and Bakura to his left. Staff set out soup and salad in small, china dishes. Bakura laughed at the romaine lettuce in front of him, but he did drink the consomme—by bringing up the bowl to his lips with his hands. 

“You’re going to have to house-train your new pet, Ryou,” Seto said, his soup spoon in hand.

“Fuck you, Kaiba,” Bakura snapped as he smacked the bowl onto the table. 

“I’ve seen orphans with better table manners.” Seto twisted his face in disgust.

“Yeah, yourself, I guess.”

“Fucking hell, Bakura. Shut your damn mouth for one dinner.” Malik clenched his spoon in his fist. 

“Please, you two.” Ryou sighed. 

The main course arrived and interrupted their argument. Bakura’s mouth watered when the aroma of pork and garlic hit his nose. He speared the meat with his fork and tore into it. 

“What the fuck, Bakura? That’s disgusting.” Malik grimaced. 

“Then move. This table is big enough to seat fifty.” Bakura chewed his food. He refused to wipe his face and enjoyed the glares from both Malik and Seto. 

“Twenty,” Seto corrected. “I suppose we’ll have to teach him to count as well as eat.” 

“Bakura, please slow down. You’re going to make yourself sick,” Ryou said before Bakura retorted. 

Bakura grunted, but otherwise ignored Ryou. Malik moved one spot down, using a triangle of flat bread to scoop something that looked like slop into his mouth. And Malik had accused Bakura of being disgusting, _ha!_ Bakura also noticed Ryou only sipped on small spoonfuls of consomme. 

“Why aren’t you eating, landlord?” Bakura speared an entire roasted shallot into his mouth.

“I am eating.” 

“You’re drinking broth from a spoon. Why aren’t you _eating_?”

“Because your eating habits are so repulsive he lost his appetite,” Malik snapped. 

“Stay out of this, Ishtar. I asked my host a question—”

“No.” Seto slammed his own fork down onto the table, standing up quick enough to knock his chair on its back. “You’re asking Ryou Kaiba, and you will treat him with respect or I’ll send you to a dimension so agonizing you’ll be praying to go back to the Shadow Realm.” 

“Gosh. Golly. Gee. I’m so afraid.” Bakura laughed as he licked his plate clean. “Oh no! You’re going to send me to another dimension! Someone call the sci-fi police and save me!” 

“You’re a fool.” Seto narrowed his eyes. 

“Ignore him, Seto. Please. For my sake.” Ryou rested a bony white hand on top of Seto’s. 

Seto sighed, the tension breaking from his shoulders, leaving him slack like a doll with their strings cut. Seto set the chair upright and dropped into it. 

“Well, it was delightful sharing a meal with friends, but I really must go.” Bakura sauntered out of the dining room. Unfortunately, Malik followed. 

“Bakura, what the fuck is your problem?” 

“My only problem is that the Pharaoh is out of my grasp and I need to figure out a way to drag him back here and give him the second death.” 

“No one cares about Atem—why are you so mean to Ryou?”

“I’m not.” 

“You disrespected him in his own house as he fed you after saving you from—”

“So what? He saved me from the Shadow Realm? Are you going to hold it over my head for the rest of my life? Am I supposed to lick his boots like a dog to show my appreciation?” Bakura continued to storm to the kitchen. He was full, but figured he should gather up supplies for later. 

“Say ‘thank you,’ you stupid jackass!”

“Thank you, you stupid jackass.” 

“Bakura.”

“What?” Bakura smirked, but it fell from his face when he saw Malik's expression.

Malik stood, tense, fists clenched, biting his lower lip as if physically forcing the words to stay in his mouth. He trembled, on the verge of confessing something, but he threw his hands in the air and screamed instead.

“You don’t know anything! Gods, I hate you!” Malik stormed away. 

Bakura stopped, turned around, and watched Malik vanish. Something felt… heavy, in his stomach. Malik’s tone had been different, genuinely upset and not part of their normal banter. Bakura couldn’t understand why Malik acted like such an old man.

He sighed. Malik _was_ sort of an old man. Bakura looked out the nearest window. The sun had set, and he saw his reflection in the glass. He still looked good, as did Malik, and he didn’t feel any older than before, except the constant ache in his back, but _that_ wasn’t from age. Ryou’s reflection appear behind him. 

“Please, could we talk somewhere more comfortable than a hallway?” Ryou asked. 

“I want chips.” 

“I’ll have them brought to us.” Ryou turned and walked away. 

Bakura found himself following, hands crammed in his pockets. They ended in a study. Sweat pricked at Bakura’s forehead because of the fire in the hearth, but Ryou wrapped himself in a shawl and sat next to the fire. 

“It’s broiling in here. Why the hell do you have a blanket?”

“Must be chills, from the flu. Please, sit down.” Ryou gestured to the chair across from him.

Bakura plopped onto it. He sank into the soft cushions. It was breathtaking, how comfortable it was—especially against his back. He tried to maintain an irritated expression, despite the coziness creeping into him. Ryou pressed a button near the chair and a maid walked into the room. 

“Could you please bring six assorted bags of chips for us?”

“Yes sir.” She curtseyed and disappeared. 

“Look at you, ordering the help around.” Bakura winked. 

“Do you need anything else? A drink? A bathrobe?” 

“Oh sure. Those both sounds splendid. And while you’re at it, a plane ticket to Egypt.” 

“Bakura—”

“We both know everyone will be happier once I’m gone.” 

“Look at this.” Ryou typed something into a keypad on the arm of the chair. 

A sphere materialized between them. Bakura realized it was a sort of digital computer screen, only three dimensional. He could see Egypt, and then the scene zoomed onto a museum. Then they were staring inside the building, at seven gold items locked behind glass.

“Why do they look dead!” Bakura screamed, his heart pounding as he stared at the gold that was no more yellow than Malik’s hair. 

“The magic’s gone. After the memorial ceremony—the Item’s grew dull. Do you understand? They won’t help you reach Atem because your people are no longer bound to the gold.” 

“It’s a trick.”

“Bakura… would I trick you? About something so important?” 

“How would I know? I don’t know any of you anymore! Time stayed still for me and you—”

“I’m sorry.” Tears ran down Ryou’s face. “I tried, I swear, but none of the spells worked, and everyone else was afraid.” 

“Afraid of what?” Bakura face twisted.”Afraid of the justice they deserved?”

“Was this justice?” Ryou held out his hand, scarred from the RPG they played thirty years ago. He showed his other hand as well. “All the blood, from everyone you killed while I wore the Ring, it still drips from my hands. We hurt people, we killed people… for nothing.”

“Spare me your bullshit. The people I kill are on _me,_ not you, and it wasn't for nothing—it was for a chance to—”

“You killed Pegasus.”

“Yes. _I_ killed Pegasus. Not you.”

“You killed Shadi.” 

“Who fucking cares? You think he was one of the good guys? Pfffft, hardly.” 

“You left all those children alone.” 

“Oh no!” Bakura held out his hands as if to shield himself from the horror of Ryou’s words. “Not the children! How could I?” He dropped his hands. “You know, I fucking love how everyone is always worried about the children until a starving one is begging at their feet, and then it’s always another story.” 

“I met some of them. They’re grown and are back in Kul Elna now, trying to change things. Making sure there _aren’t_ any starving children begging at people’s feet. Bakura, doesn’t some part of you want to rebuild something instead of destroy it? Isn’t there _some piece of you_ that wants to do good?”

Bakura tossed his head back and laughed. Ryou’s expression crumpled. 

“Oh yeah. Yeah, host, yeah. You got me. I’m secretly craving affection and wish I could save people so no one has to ever know the kind of pain that I’ve known.” Bakura held his heart, sighing. “Alas, pain is part of being alive, so I guess I’ll have to settle for my plan B of wiping out the Pharaoh’s soul instead.” 

“You still like games?” Ryou typed in another command, and a map appeared in the sphere. 

“What? Done trying to reform me already?” 

“I’m tired. Maybe I’ll redeem you later.” 

“Funny.” 

“Thank you.” Ryou smiled a fake, exhausted smile. 

“Why the fuck not? Let’s play a game. Won’t be as fun without friends to seal up, but we’ll make do.” 

The armrest of Bakura’s chair opened to reveal another control panel. The game was a fantasy RPG and they each controlled two of the characters in their party. The maid returned with a tray loaded with bags of chips, and Bakura tore into one while he played. 

He forgot about the Pharaoh, and about the anger he felt at them talking so long to bring him back from the Shadows. Bakura hated to admit it, but he and Ryou were a good team as they played together. It was past midnight when Bakura returned from a piss break to find Ryou curled up on the chair, asleep. Bakura grinned. The dumb bastard needed to sleep if he was sick. Bakura pulled the throw from the back of his chair and covered Ryou with it. Realizing what he was doing, Bakura shook his head, grabbed the last two bags of chips, and scurried away to the room he’d stolen for himself. He added the chips to his collection, wrapped himself in his own blanket, and fell asleep beneath the bed for the second time that day. 

***

The next morning, Ryou wasn’t at breakfast. Kaiba only said his flu was worse. Bakura shrugged when he heard the information, sheepish since he’d stayed up late with Ryou despite knowing Ryou was sick, but Bakura refused to take any of the blame because Ryou had been the one who wanted to play in the first place. Malik wouldn’t say three words to Bakura, and Kaiba excused himself early to go work. 

Having no other source of entertainment, Bakura decided to try to VR game Seto gave him. He settled into the game room, strapping on the wrist band and slipping the ear piece behind his hair. Bakura stared at the black band. He only saw a shimmering, metallic blue KC in the center. Intuitively, he pressed and held the logo for three seconds. 

Bakura gasped. He expected another screen floating in front of him, similar to the one he and Ryou played with the day before, but the game room disappeared. Bakura floated in space. Galaxies shimmered in the distance, swirls of glittering dust or flashes of light. Otherwise, it was cold...dark. Too dark. Thoughts of the Shadow Realm overwhelmed Bakura and he couldn’t breathe. A calm, polite female voice hummed in Bakura’s head. 

_System scan complete. Settings saved. Waiting command._

“Exit!” Bakura growled. 

As quick as it appeared, it vanished. Bakura crashed to his hands and knees, sputtering for breath. 

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Kaiba sat in Ryou’s chair from the previous night, long legs crossed. 

“Thought you were at work?”

“Observing the betas is part of my job.”

“You mean fucking spying. What the hell was _that_?”

“I’m assuming you’re referring to the start-up menu?” 

“It was a void.” 

“Didn’t think you’d mind the dark. Next time, tell the system to load the game.” 

“Fuck this game.” Bakura ripped the strap away from his wrist and the piece off of his ear, slamming both onto the ground in front of him. “Keep your crazy sci-fi bullshit away from me.” 

“It’s not different from the gaming pods we’ve used for decades—except the advancements in portability. Full bodied cases at first. Then the helmets. Now this latest design. We’ll program new games after the bugs are ironed out, but I wanted the first one to be Ryou’s.” Kaiba stared off to the side. 

“What happens if this damn thing scrambles your brain?” Bakura grit his teeth.

“Highly improbable.” 

“I have better things to do than mess with this techno-bullshit.”

“ _What_ exactly do you have to do?” The ire in Kaiba’s voice was thick and unmistakable. 

“Plan—”

“You’re afraid.” Kaiba interrupted. 

“Am fucking not.” 

“Ishtar’s playing.”

“I don’t care what that idiot does. His brains are already scrambled, so what does he have to lose?” 

“I tested the prototype myself. Despite interacting directly with the synopsis in the brain, this system is statistically safer than flying, or even walking down the streets of Domino, but you don’t have to play if you’re too much a coward.” Seto shrugged. 

“Ha ha, your narcissistic, manipulative bullshit isn’t going work on me. Call me a coward. I don’t have to prove anything to you.” 

Bakura stormed out of the game room. He walked through the maze of hallways, learning the layout of the mansion, memorizing where the security cameras hung from the wall and their range of motion as they turned from their mounting. He heard laughter echoing down one of the many corridors. Curious, Bakura stepped down the hallway. A sunroom with glass walls sat at the end. A garden grew around the lower half, but the upper half and ceiling were sky and sunlight. Malik lazed on a violet and gold chaise in the center of the room. A lavender strap hugged Malik’s wrist. He reached out with both hands, laughing again. 

“What’d they do, build you your own room?” Bakura asked from the doorway. But Malik didn’t respond. “Oi! You look like an idiot!” Bakura shouted, but Malik didn’t reply. “I can’t wait until these things are mass produced because it’s going to be hilarious watching assholes walk into traffic while playing a video game.” 

“Actually, I’m ignoring you on purpose.” Malik dropped both his hands. “What do you want? Can’t you see I’m busy?” 

“Didn’t the dark bother you at the beginning?” 

“No more than the sky every night.”

“What’s the stupid game about anyway?”

“Dark fantasy. There’s a plague creating zombies and only a unicorn has strong enough magic to stop the outbreak, but the last one disappeared over a thousand years ago.”

“Only a thousand?”

“No one’s impressed with how old you are.” Malik dismissed him with a gesture. “Now go away, you’re ruining my immersion.” 

“ _Tch_.” Bakura snorted and retraced his steps. 

Seto sat working on the screen from the night before. He didn’t glance at Bakura when Bakura entered the room. 

“Bored already?” 

“Malik saw me when I entered the room.”

“Of course. It wouldn’t be safe if the sensors couldn’t pick up external environmental—”

“Then why didn’t I see you?”

“Because I pre-set yours not to.” Kaiba smirked.

“Why?” Bakura frowned. 

“To fuck with you. I despise you. If you never existed—” Kaiba snapped his jaw shut. “For the life of me I can’t figure out why he spent all those years studying magic to bring you back.” 

“It's because I'm so loveable.” Bakura flicked his hair out of his face.

“It's because Ryou is too kind for this world.” Kaiba closed his screen and stood. “You don't deserve to know him. Tell the computer to enable safety features next time you play.” Kaiba left the room. 

Bakura snatched the device and crammed it into his pocket. If nothing else, he could pawn it. A rival company would probably set Bakura up for life in order to get their hands on developing Kaiba Corp tech. He strolled back to the sun room, pissed off at the size of the mansion. It was like navigating through a small village. 

“Gods, why are you back?” Malik groaned. 

“Kaiba said Ryou spent years studying magic to bring me back.”

“Maybe he did. Who knows?” Malik made a point to turn his back to Bakura. 

“You made it seem a spur of the moment thing. Why am I hearing different stories? What are you guys hiding?” 

“He tried on his own. I helped a few times. Nothing worked until the last spell.”

“What sort of spell did you use?” 

“The usual sort. The sort on a scroll.” 

“A papyrus scroll, as in Egyptian magic?” 

“What does it matter? You can’t bring Atem back that way.” 

“Oh couldn’t I?” Bakura smirked, ignoring the way the light teased the gold highlights in Malik’s hair, and ignoring the way it cascaded down to his shoulders. “I could bind my and the Pharaoh's lives together and take us both out at once. I’ve never been against sacrificing myself to defeat my enemy—” 

“You really are an asshole.” Malik pulled the earpiece down, snapping himself into reality. “Did you forget I’m connected to you so you’re not the only one who’d die? Or how Ryou went through a lot to bring you back and you killing yourself would ruin everything he did? But why would you care? Hey, you know what? I bet there’s at least one hundred staff members in the mansion on a busy day, what with the doctor, nurses, chefs, maids, butlers, gardeners, assistants, interns. Why stop with sacrifices the two of us? You could set the mansion on fire and sacrifice us all! Make a new set of Millenium Items and use those to—” 

Bakura lunged at Malik, tackling him off his stupid, pretentious chaise and to the hardwood floor. Malik’s back slammed against the ground, and both of them froze as the impact knocked the wind from them. Bakura clenched his stomach, nauseous from the pain. 

“You’re real smart, Bakura.” 

“Fuck… you…” 

The rage bubbled inside his chest. He pushed himself to sitting, glaring at Malik. His anger dulled the pain throbbing from his shoulders to his tailbone. 

“Okay.” Malik coughed, on his side and holding his own stomach. “That was uncalled for. I’m an asshole for what I said, but listening to you talk manages to piss me off so badly.” 

“I want the truth. Why’d you two bring me back?”

“Because Ryou is too good for this world.” Malik braced himself against the floor, struggling to push himself to a seated position. 

Bakura's brow wrinkled. Kaiba had said the same thing. There was something strange about the way they said it, like they spoke about a loved one they’d lost.

“Was it a whim, or—”

“It’s something we always talked about.” Marik groaned, rolling his shoulders. “You were our favorite ghost story at sleepovers, but we didn’t trust you not to hurt people, so we could never talk Yugi into sharing his spells.” Malik stared right at Bakura. “Ryou tried other types of magic. Yugi always begged him not to. I probably should have too, but… I don’t know. I felt bad for you.”

“For me?” Bakura chuckled, dark and bitter. 

“Yeah, for you. No one deserves to be in the dark.”

“You shoved a piece of yourself there quickly enough.”

“And called him back after a lot of therapy, and integrated our fragments together after a lot more therapy. You ever think about going to therapy? It’d do you a lot of good.”

“I’m not crazy.”

“Oh sure.” Malik laughed. “Your manic outbursts are a sure sign of well-adjusted behavior. Besides, it’s not about being crazy, it’s about processing trauma.” 

“Don’t project on me.” 

“Anyway, if you decide to try it, Ryou would hire the best for you. It’d be a much better use of time than trying to bring back a 3,000 year old dead pharaoh just to kill him.” 

“Debatable.” Bakura shifted, his back still ached. “How do you live like this?”

“One day at a time. Hot baths help.” Malik wobbled to his feet. “Think I’ll go take one now.” 

Bakura grunted as if he didn’t care, but he also wondered if him soaking at the same time might ease the discomfort quicker. The only problem was, he wasn’t sure which bathroom to use. There was one in his room, but he didn’t want the maids to realize where he slept. Bakura decided to hunt through the neighboring rooms to his. Turned out, each one had a large, marble bathtub in the bathrooms joined to them. Leave it to Kaiba to shack his guests up swankier than most five star hotels. He locked the door to the room next to his, unmade the bed to give the illusion that he slept in it, and then locked himself in the bathroom as well.

There were bath salts and gels for soaking. Bakura dumped several at random into the running water. The tub foamed up with suds, and the scents of vanilla, lavender, and rose tickled his nose. Bakura jumped in, and clenched his teeth as the heat stung his skin. He tolerated it for as long as he could before jumping back out and lowering the temp of the water. The hot water turned Bakura’s gardenia-colored skin red everywhere it touched. Bakura was surprised he hadn't heard Malik shrieking at him from wherever the tombkeeper stayed in the mansion. 

He fared better the second time and settled down into the bubbles. The water still stung, but in a good way, and Bakura relaxed. Something worked against his gut, a feeling he hadn’t had to deal with for thousands of years… guilt. 

Even soaking in the hot water, the faint, muted echoes of Malik’s emotions plagued him. It was similar to Ryou’s emotions when the Ring connected them, but back then Zorc had numbed Bakura to the inconveniences of human emotions. Now, Malik’s anger, frustration, and destress had a sobering effect on Bakura… as if he should apologize, or… 

He wasn’t sure. He didn’t know how to deal with people. He knew only how to hunt the Pharaoh to the ends of the earth. 

Yet the Pharaoh was beyond the boundaries of the earth now. 

“If that idiot would just let me look at his spells I could copy what I needed and get far away from all of them.” Bakura kicked at the water. 

They were better off if he were far away. Perhaps he could even find a way to block his connection with Malik so the tomb keeper couldn’t bother him. Bakura stared at the ceiling. Gold flecks glinted above him. Bakura loved gold, and the little flashes hypnotized him until his eyes fluttered shut. A memory lazed through his thoughts as he dozed—the way Malik’s hair gleamed in the sun room.

He denied it. The memory, the beauty of it, Bakura denied it. To distract himself, he racked his thoughts for other memories, stealing gold from tombs, watching the stars before pollution and artificial lights ruined the night sky. He woke and realized he’d fallen asleep and the water was tepid. Bakura forced himself out. He saw a long, fluffy bathrobe hanging from a hook on the door, and decided to help himself to it. He couldn’t help but sigh as the downy fabric engulfed him. He felt cloud-embraced, and smirked because Kaiba was never getting the robe back. 

Hungry again, Bakura crept to the dining room. It was the same time as they’d had supper the previous day, and he figured he’d find Kaiba and Malik there. It was Seto who was missing, but Ryou sat at the head of the table in his stead. 

“Oh good, you made it to dinner. I was worried when they told me you skipped lunch.” Ryou beamed the moment Bakura slinked into the dining room. 

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” He asked. 

“I’ve been in bed enough. I want to sit for a while.” Ryou smiled, but Bakura noticed he only had another bowl of consomme in front of him and a few crackers. 

Bakura grunted in reply. He moved the dishes already set for him a chair further away in order to distance himself from Malik. 

“You’re a fucking preschooler, you know that?” Malik mumbled, his eyes burning with ire. 

“I’m sorry I hurt your stupid back. What do you want from me?” Bakura snapped, growling at the servers filling his glass and setting a plate of roast beef and whipped potatoes in front of him. 

“Malik? Are you okay?” Ryou asked, genuine in his concern.

“It’s nothing. I deserved it.” Malik pressed his face into his hands. “I deserved worse for what I said.” 

“Don’t be a martyr. I had no excuse to shove you—” 

“I would have done the same thing in your place,” Malik interrupted. 

“Please, will someone explain? I’m very confused.” Ryou frowned, his gaze alternating between them. 

“Don’t worry about it, host.” Bakura shrugged. 

Somehow, he and Malik were neutral again, perhaps a little better than when he first came back. They shot each other a look, silently agreeing not to worry Ryou with the details. 

“Please, call me Ryou. I’m not your host anymore.”

“Aren’t you? You’re sitting at the head of the table.” 

“Seto had to work late,” Ryou said. 

“Still makes you the host.”

“I suppose.” Ryou sighed, sipping on his broth. “I see you found a bathrobe. I’m glad. We could get you fitted for any clothes you’d like.” 

“I don’t want people touching me.” 

“I can give you a credit card if you’d rather shop for yourself, but I know you appreciate well made clothes, and if they’re hand-tailored—”

“Sure, sure, I guess.” Bakura slumped his cheek against his hand, stabbing his food with his knife. “You’re as naïve and pathetic as always. Offering me a free mansion to sleep in and a king’s wardrobe. If you knew what was good for you—you’d kick me out on the street to fend for myself.” 

“You deserve some kindness in your life, Bakura,” Ryou said. 

“Do I? I don’t remember doing a damn thing to deserve it.” 

“How are you supposed to learn anything other than thieving and murdering without it?” 

“Who says I want to?” Bakura shoved a bite of meat into his mouth. 

“I know you feel like you have to be tough.” Ryou set his spoon down. “I know you feel like if you ease up the slightest bit, you’re as good as dead, but Bakura, I swear nothing bad will happen to you here.”

“Now you sound like Malik with his therapy talk.” Bakura rolled his eyes. 

“You’d enjoy it,” Malik said. “You’ve always been fond of evil monologues. Imagine giving one while sitting on a nice couch.” 

“I could make an appointment for mine, if you’d like.” Ryou said.

“You go to therapy, too?” Bakura asked with a full mouth. 

“Yes. So does Seto, and Mokuba. All of us, even Yugi.”

“Ha! Why would Mr. Perfect King of Games need a therapist?” 

“Death games aren't really healthy for people,” Malik said. 

“But they’re so much fun.” Bakura shoved the last bite into his mouth. 

His favorite part of living at the Kaiba estate so far were the meals. A sigh escaped his throat. He was full, and wrapped in a soft robe, and part of Bakura wanted to stab his arm again in order to feel somewhat normal instead of… whatever he was feeling. 

“Let’s play then,” Ryou suggested.

“A Shadow Game?” Bakura raised an eyebrow. 

“Let’s play Munchkin instead. You can cheat as long as you don’t get caught.” 

“Finish your soup.” Malik frowned. 

“I’m not—”

“Ryou—”

“All right.” Ryou sighed. “I’ll have them pour it into a cup and I'll sip on it while we play. Will that work?”

“If it’s not empty by the time Seto returns—”

This time Ryou cut off Malik, laughing. “Then he’ll lecture me more than you ever could.” 

“How’d you and sugar-daddy-long-legs become a thing, anyway?” Bakura asked. 

“Games.” Ryou shrugged, calling the staff to take his soup to the game room before continuing. “We kept seeing each other at tournaments, and I started working for Kaiba Corp as a game designer. Then there was a tsunami, and I was the only one who showed up to work—”

“Oh tell me you’re joking.” Bakura’s jaw dropped. “You went to work during a tsunami? What is wrong with you two?”

“I couldn’t fall behind schedule.” Ryou’s brow wrinkled. “And Seto agreed, so we bunkered down in an interior room, and worked off of generators for a week, hardly sleeping and eating whatever I could scrap together from the lunchroom, until it was done, and then…” Ryou winked.

Malik chuckled, but Bakura frowned. He didn’t really want to think of Ryou and Kaiba high off of sleep exhaustion and success getting freaky on top of a desk. 

“So how’d you and Malik end up so chummy?” 

“It was in Egypt. We worked together on several projects and realized we get along great.” Ryou smiled, leading them to the game room. 

“He truly is your opposite,” Malik teased. “So of course I get along with Ryou.” 

“Sounds overrated.” Bakura crossed his arms over his chest. “So why aren’t you married, Ishtar?”

“Romance always seemed a little fake to me.” Malik grabbed a box from a shelf and brought it to them. “All the married people I know are happy, but I can’t imagine ever feeling that way about anyone.” 

“Ha! On _that_ , at least, we can agree. Romance is a fake-ass bitch.” 

“You can give all the romance to me. It’s great. Seto is an indulgent, sentimental husband, and I never tire of it.” Ryou blushed as he dealt the cards. 

“Yeah, you two are precious. Although I’m a little surprised at you, Bakura. I imagined the King of Thieves would have countless stories of broken hearts, pining men and women, and sultry meetups at the oasis.” 

“I was trying to murder God.” Bakura started to set down equipment. “I trained, and robbed, and fought. Now if you want a story about stolen gold, I’d be happy to regale you.” 

“Oh please do.” A spark of light flashed in Ryou’s earthy brown eyes. “Tell me everything. I’ve always been curious about you, but we hardly talked before.” 

“Yeah…” Bakura stared at his remaining cards. There is was again. Guilt. Emotions more complex than rage. Bakura shrugged. Sure. He could tell a few tall tales. “It was the dead of night, but a thief loves the darkness…” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taking a bit of a self-care weekend, so I'm posting this chapter early, so I don't have to worry about it. Hope everyone has a nice weekend. It's spring, so try to get outside and get some sunshine if your weather allows!

The next few weeks rushed by. Bakura allowed himself to be fitted for clothes and further explored the mansion. He learned when each meal was, and ate with the others, but tried to keep to himself otherwise. The one exception was after dinner, when Ryou would beg everyone to play games. Sometimes it was the four of them, him, Ryou, Kaiba, and Malik, but sometimes Malik would makes calls to Egypt, and Seto would work, so it would be the two of them alone in the game room. They'd spent so long together in the same body, that Ryou's company never bothered Bakura. In fact, he found himself rambling old stories about his life as the Thief King.

Bakura started with the grandest of his stories. He embellished and smoothed out the details, but they were—more or less—true stories. Ryou always seemed less tired and more… alive… when he heard Bakura talk about his past. So when Bakura ran out of tomb-raiding stories, he talked about the ghosts, and training Diabound, and even a few unflattering tales of fights which could have ended worse, but as it was, didn’t end well.

“And that’s how I really got the scar.” He drew his finger down his face. 

“You’ve told me no less than seven stories about how you really got that scar, but I’ll admit—this one is my favorite.” Ryou rested his chin in his hand, grinning. 

“I can’t give you all my secrets.” Bakura shrugged. “You should probably get your ass to bed. Don’t you have a husband or something?” 

“He’ll be working.” Ryou glanced at an ornate grandfather clock sitting near the bookshelf. 

“Duel Monsters, then? I’m still trying to figure out synchro-summoning.” 

“Before we start another game. I wanted to give you something.” Ryou pulled a black box from his robe pocket. 

“What is it?” Bakura took the box and toyed with the red satin ribbon tied around it. 

“A present.” Ryou smiled. 

“Why?”

“Because we’re friends, and friends have been known to exchange gifts.” 

“We’re not friends. I’d have to be nice to you to be your friend.” 

“We play games together, share food, and talk for hours. Bakura, what would you call us?” 

Bakura frowned at the box. His eyes shot up to Ryou’s. 

“Why are you like this?”

“Sarcastic? I think I got it from you.” Ryou giggled. 

“Kind. Why are you… you’re covered in scars because of me. Think I don’t notice you rubbing your left hand all the time?” 

“If it bothers you, you could apologize.” Ryou raised an eyebrow. 

Bakura stood and grabbed a plate that had been loaded with fresh baked cookies at the beginning of the night. He glanced at the engrossed ivory circling the parameter and raised his gaze up to Ryou’s magenta eyes. 

“Is this important?”

“It’s expensive, but I wouldn’t say it’s important.” 

Bakura hurled it toward the hearth. It crashed against the stones and dropped in fragments to the ground. Bakura marched over to the damage, staring at the shards of glass glimmering in the firelight. He knelt beside the wreckage, lifting each fragment one at a time and speaking to them. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “With the entirety of my corrupted soul I’m sorry.” He cradled the fragments as if they were children, keeping his voice low. “I didn’t even have a good reason to break you. I was proving a point, but you didn’t have to shatter for it. I’m sorry…I’m sorry...I’m…” 

His voice broke. He knelt in silence; the crackling fire and grandfather clock the only sounds in the room. After a minute, Bakura carried the shards to Ryou and passed them on. Ryou held them in his lap. 

“I apologized.”

“Yes. I heard.”

“It’s still shattered.” 

“Watch this—but it’s between you and me—Malik and Seto lecture me when I use too much magic.”

Ryou tossed the fragments into the air. They hovered in front of him and he reached out, tracing each piece with the tip of his finger. The glass glowed as Ryou fit the fragments together, filling in the gaps with light. Once the plate was whole again, it flashed and dropped into Ryou’s hands. 

“Kintsugi?” Bakura asked. 

“Yes, but with mother of pearl filling the cracks. Funny, isn’t it? Magic can fix a plate. If only it were so easy to fix a person, but we like a challenge, don’t we?” He handed the plate back to Bakura. “Treat it with care now. Your apology is meaningless if your actions don’t match your words.” 

Bakura hurled it at the stone again, twice as savage as the first time he flung it. Ryou exhaled, drooping his head low as he stared at the shadow expanding from Bakura’s feet. 

“It didn’t break,” Bakura commented, his voice dry. 

“No, but that doesn’t mean you should use it as a frisbie.” Ryou stood and walked toward the door. “Goodnight, Bakura.” 

Bakura sat next to the plate, staring at it. He remembered the box in his hand and he tugged the ribbon. The satin slipped away from the package. He lifted the lid and saw a pocket knife sitting on a bed of velvet. Bakura lifted the handle out of the box, flicking it to release the blade. The steal glinted fiery orange. His eyes reflected back at him in the polished surface. His name was carved into the steal in hieroglyphs. A memory tickled the back of Bakura’s mind. His father drawing both their names in the sand and making Bakura repeat the letters over and over to remember them. Then he wrote his mother’s and sister’s names. 

Bakura swiped a hand over his cheek. Drawing back he stared at the smear of tears and wiped them against his shirt. He shoved the knife in his pocket, sntached the plate, and trudged to his room. Hiding beneath the bed, he used his new gift to widen his cubby hole and slipped the plate inside next to his food stash. He was _stealing_ it, only stealing it. There was no other reason to keep it. 

***

A few nights later, It was past one in the morning, Bakura decided to raid Ryou’s snack cupboard. He noticed the light flickering below the crack of the door before he entered. Ryou sat on the floor. A blue and white quilt wrapped around his shoulders as he stared at a box of cookies. 

“Well? Y’gonna eat them or just look at them until breakfast?” Bakura plopped down beside him, stealing the box and tearing into it. He grabbed three cookies and then passed the package back to Ryou. 

“Guess I was just waiting for someone to come by and share them with me.” Ryou smiled, nibbling on a single cookie. 

“Come on, you’re eating like a mouse.” Bakura reached over to grab a few more cookies, cramming a whole one into his mouth and grinning. Ryou laughed as he watched. 

“I’m the one who taught you how to do that, wasn’t I? I tried so hard for us to be friends, back then… nothing worked though.” The hand holding the cookie fell into his lap. 

“Wasn’t your fault.” Bakura shrugged. “I know I’m an asshole, and friends are a liability. I couldn’t afford any weaknesses when I fought the Pharaoh.” 

“Do you still feel the same way?” Ryou asked. 

A shiver vibrated down Bakura’s spine. The circles beneath Ryou’s eyes looked too much like the Shadow Realm. As if the darkness were eating Ryou from the inside out somehow. Bakura opened his mouth, but closed it again. 

“I know you all tried to make things right… but it’s not right.” Bakura clutched the fabric of his shirt, over his heart. “Nothing feels right.”

“Will killing Atem fix it? Or are you lashing out in pain?”

“What else is there to do?” Bakura asked, voice hoarse.

“Eat cookies on the floor at one in the morning.” Ryou tilted the box to Bakura. 

“Dammit, you better eat some of these with me.” Bakura only took a single cookie, waiting for Ryou to finish his first one. 

“I know. I know. Remember in high school when I could finish off three boxes like this by myself? Heh, getting old sucks.” Ryou bit into his cookie. 

Bakura couldn’t shake the gut instinct that Ryou was making excuses for something else. The smile on his face was a strange mix of real joy and a brave front. 

“I’m only after the Pharaoh this time,” Bakura said. It was the closest he could get to comforting his old host. “Not Yugi or any of your other friends.”

“Good because if you went after any of my friends again… you’d wish you were dead by the time I was done with you. I’ve gotten good with magic over the years.”

“Yeah? You know, you’ve never been straight with me on why you even brought me back.”

“Simple. I wanted you to be alive.” Ryou finally finished his cookie. “These are so good.” 

“Then eat more than one, you asshole.” Bakura took another cookie, cramming it into Ryou’s mouth. 

Ryou squealed, the noise muffled from his mouth being full. He repaid Bakura by doing the same to him with a different cookie. Bakura choked a bit, and Ryou half-laughed as he chewed all the way to the fridge. He grabbed a carton of milk, and brought it back to their nest on the floor, drinking from the carton and passing it to Bakura. 

“This is not how rich people are supposed to act, y’know.” Bakura said after washing down the cookies with a few swigs of milk. 

“Rich people act however they want to.” Ryou grabbed another cookie. “Look at Seto. He’s never done a proper thing in his life, except always use the correct spoon at the dinner table.” 

“That’s true.” 

“He’s so good with kids. Three times a year we close all the amusement parks to the public and fly orphans from all over the world to ride everything for free, and he jumps right into the middle of things with them, teaching them how to play the games, showing them the rides are safe. He has the imagination of an eight-year-old. I love him so much.” Ryou wiped a tear out of the corner of his eye.

“About as much as an onion, from the looks of it,” Bakura muttered. He couldn't imagine why Ryou would wipe away a tear when he was talking about something happy. 

“I just… wish we had more time,” Ryou whispered. 

“Well, make that jackass take a vacation, then. Probably be good for him. He hasn’t aged half as well as you and Malik.” 

“Yeah.” Ryou sighed. “He’s going to take off near my birthday. He said he’s planning something special for my present.”

Bakura grunted, thinking about the game he was supposed to be betaing. He and Ryou finished the cookies and drank all the milk in between small talk. Bakura shoved a few kit kats into his pockets before sneaking to his own room. He slid under the bed—where no one could find him—stashed the new snacks in their cubby hole, and fell asleep. 

The next day he started betaing Kaiba’s stupid game. He told himself he did it because of boredom, and not because it was Ryou’s birthday present. Besides, he loved Monster World as much as Ryou did. Why shouldn’t he enjoy the game for himself? 

It was a dark fantasy, beautiful, but full of horror elements. The perfect gift for Ryou. Seto often brought home gifts. White roses, treats from halfway across the world, stuffed bears or rare first gen Monster World figurines. Ryou beamed each time, kissed Kaiba, said _I love yous_ like he was running out of time. 

Watching them soured Bakura’s stomach. It was foreign and strange, love. Even in his last life, watching couples dance and grind at festivals, their sexual tension palpable, or watching people press their noses together, a chaste form of kissing, it made his guts feel like he was cramming his right foot into a left shoe—the wrong shape for him.

He snuck away and hid under his bed, slipping on the gaming band and ear piece and escaping reality for awhile. 

Bakura was low on supplies and couldn’t use spells, so he trudged through the forests in search of a town. After the roots and branches of the woods gave way, he saw a manor sitting on top of a hill. Bakura walked to the gates where a guard escorted him to the lady of the house.

The woman, Carmilla, wore a ruby choker at her throat, and ringlets of black hair cascaded around her face. She lavished Bakura with supplies and hospitality and offered him lodgings. Bakura accepted with a grin.

That night, in his temporary room, Bakura broke the leg off of a chair and whittled it with his dagger into a stake. He blew out the lantern and crawled into bed, weapon in hand. 

The mattress creaked as weight shifted his bed. Cold breath blew against Bakura’s throat. He waited until he felt the brush of lips and teeth before he grabbed the vampire by her soft, thick hair, and held her in place while he plunged the stake into her heart. She died, and Bakura looted her body before searching the rest of the mansion for treasure. 

“Beta note: this place is nice, but too easy. Ryou read Carmilla in high school, so maybe arrange the letters into a different name like the vampire did in the novella. That way Ryou will still figure it out, but it’ll be more challenging. Also save and quit.” 

He blinked at the darkness around him. Pulling himself from under the bed, Bakura washed his face and hands before meandering to the dining room. 

“You’re late,” Malik snapped. 

“I was busy.” 

“What could you possibly be busy with?” Malik gestured toward Bakura. “You have absolutely no responsibilities.” 

“Resurrecting a dead king and destroying his very existence is an enormous responsibility,” Bakura answered.

“Bakura, not at the dinner table, please,” Ryou said.

“Soup again?” Bakura frowned. 

“I had a big lunch.”

“When has that ever stopped you?” 

“Don’t be his mother,” Malik stabbed at his baba ganoush with a triangle of pita bread. 

“Eat some of this.” Bakura scooped penne from his plate and stretched over to Ryou’s mouth. 

“I’ll eat some later. Midnight snack.”

“No. Now.”

“I’m not hungry, Bakura.”

“Then neither am I.” Bakura dropped his spoon to his plate and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Damn stubborn ass, leave Ryou alone.” Malik frowned. 

“I ain’t doing shit to Ryou. He’s the one acting weird.” 

“With your table manners, it’s a wonder any of us have an appetite.” 

“Maybe just a little.” Ryou stole the spoon and scooped the pasta into his mouth. 

Satisfied that he’d won, Bakura took another spoon near his plate. He knew it was a dessert spoon, Kaiba explained that a thousand times already, but he didn’t care. He only took one bite. 

“Do you not like it?” Ryou asked, concerned. 

“I’m matching you.” 

“You’re going to make me fat.” Ryou stole a second bite. 

“Won’t hurt you to gain some weight.” Bakura mirrored Ryou with a second bite of his own. 

“I lose my appetite in the summer,” Ryou said. 

“First you blamed the flu, now it’s summer. What’s really going on?”

“Nothing.” Ryou shook his head, using a third bite as a distraction. “This is delicious, thank you for sharing with me.” 

“Fine. Not like I care anyway.” Bakura rolled his eyes. 

The continued eating bite for bite. Bakura did the same for dessert. By the time they went into the game room, Ryou was a little more lively than normal. He typed into his keypad at his chair, and a Monster World diorama appeared. 

“The computer can DM for us, so we can all play as a team.” 

“I guess.” Bakura snorted. “But if you want, I could—”

“I want to play with you, not against you.” The smile on Ryou’s face was more of a nervous tick than an expression of any positive emotion. 

“Fine. Fine.” Bakura waved off the issue. 

Kaiba walked into the room, sighing from exhaustion and loosening his tie.

“Sorry. I tried.” 

“You’re just in time to play. That’s what matters.” Ryou’s smile became genuine the moment he saw Kaiba. 

“You look well,” Kaiba said, leaning down to kiss the crown of Ryou's head. 

“Thank you, Seto. Bakura shared his dinner with me, and now we’re playing my favorite game. It’s been a lovely evening.”

Kaiba’s head jerked toward Bakura. He gave Seto a defensive glare at first, but his face softened when he saw the appreciation on Kaiba’s face. 

“No big deal,” Bakura muttered. “Can we hurry up and play already? The sooner this is over with, the sooner I can go back to preparing for my real plans.” 

They played until midnight. Ryou had fallen asleep in his chair despite them all talking at once. Seto knelt in front of him, hand resting on Ryou's chest to feel him breathe. Seto exhaled, his own complexion pale. He lifted Ryou into his arms and carried him out of the room, treating him with all the love and care he'd treat his favorite playing card.

“I love watching them.” Malik smiled once they were alone. “I always kind of wished I could feel that way about someone. That gentle.”

“Makes me feel like ants are crawling over my skin.” Bakura wrinkled his nose. 

“You're such a grump.” Malik chuckled.

“So you never… y’know.” Bakura glanced at Malik out of the corner of his eye.

“Fell in love? Nope.”

“Not that.” Bakura waved Malik's answer away. “I meant get lucky.”

“Gods no.” Malik wrinkled his face the same way Bakura had a moment before. 

“Seriously though? Someone who looks like you?”

“ _Mmmm_ , Bakura, are you admitting you think I’m attractive?” Malik leaned forward in his chair, flashing Bakura a coy grin. 

“You’ve seen yourself in a mirror.” Bakura rolled his eyes. “And I don’t care. It’s just surprising.” 

“No more surprising than you never having slept with someone. You strike me as the type who would be good at seduction if you wanted it enough.”

“Malik Ishtar, are you admitting that I’m seductive?” Bakura lidded his eyes, what he assumed was a sultry _come hither_ stare. Malik met it with a look of his own—and then they both erupted in laughter. Bakura held his stomach. “I mean, isn’t that the problem though? I’ve never wanted it enough. Never had an itch I couldn’t scratch myself, so—huh.”

“Huh, what?” Malik wiped a tear out of the corner of his eye from laughing too hard. 

“Your emotions are far away, but I can sense them.”

“Yeah, I can do the same for you,” Malik said. 

“And physical sensations are stronger than mental ones.” 

“I know. I remember to knife wound.”

“So, uh…” Bakura’s skin grew hot. He never considered himself bashful, but for some reason staring at Malik made it hard to broach the topic. Malik studied him for a second, eyes rounding as he figured it out. 

“O-oh… oh.” Malik started to giggle, half hiding his face behind his hand. “Now that you mention it, I guess I have been a little more experimental before bed than I used to be. I never even realized I might accidentally be picking up signals from you.”

“Me neither. It’s not exactly the time I’m thinking about magical connections. I’m usually just thinking about… myself and what I want.” 

“Sounds about right.” Malik laughed a little louder. “You _would_ think about yourself while jerking off, you narcissistic bitch.” 

“Please, who the fuck do you think about when you’re fucking yourself?” Bakura crossed his legs. The conversation caused his dick to expand down his pant leg. 

“Oh you, of course,” Malik said in a teasing, breathy voice. 

“I bet you pretend you’re on the Pharaoh's throne when you’re holding your dick and squeezing one off,” Bakura said in a mocking voice.

“I’m creative enough to imagine my own throne.” Malik winked. 

Bakura laughed. “In any case… what should we do about it? Does it bother you, because—”

“We’re both adults.” Malik interrupted. “It’s no big deal, really.” 

“And you know what they say.” Bakura raised and lowered his eyebrows. 

“I’m afraid to ask, but what do they say?”

“There are only two kinds of people in the world: masturbators and liars—and I’m no liar.”

“You’re the biggest fucking liar I know.” Malik slumped back into the green and gold paisley chair with a grin on his face. 

“Dammit, Malik, it’s a joke!” 

“Your face is a joke.” 

“And you call me immature.” Bakura leaned on the armrest of his chair. “So it really doesn’t bother you?” 

“Nah.” Malik shrugged. “It’s nothing I'm not used to. I jerk off so much, it’s a wonder I _don’t_ go get laid once in a while, but _uuugh_ people.” 

“Exactly.” Bakura grinned. “Anyway, guess I’m going to go hit the sack.” 

“You son-of-a-bitch.” Malik sat up straight. “You’re going to go jerk off right now, aren’t you?” 

“Well, all this _talk_ about it kinda put me in the mood to _do_ it.” Bakura stood up. 

“Wait. At least let me get into my bedroom before you get me all worked up.” 

“Better hurry. As soon as I’m in my room it’s go time.”

“Don’t you dare.” Malik pointed at him. “You wait until _I_ start, and _then_ you can touch yourself.” 

“Are you such a control freak that now I have to wait until you give me permission to jack off? I don’t think so.” 

“I have to go to the second floor to get to my room. It’s not fair if you start first.”

“Yeah, I’m sure this is all about what’s _fair_ and not what _gives you control_.” 

“The control is a nice perk.” Malik smirked. The firelight toyed with the gold on his arms and throat, and Bakura’s heartbeat stuttered a little. He told himself repeatedly that it was only his lust for gold. 

“Fine, but I hope you like a finger in your ass because I’m suddenly in the mood to really treat myself tonight.” 

“I’ll match your finger, and raise you a vibraitor.” Malik crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re not the only one who knows how to treat himself.” 

“Um…” Bakura swallowed. His stomach flipped. 

“Too much?” Malik looked sheepish, on the verge of apologizing. 

“No, just never had the opportunity to try one.” Bakura stared at the fire, needing something less sizzling than Malik to look at for a moment. 

“Do you want to try one?” Malik asked. 

“You mean together?” The flips in Bakura’s belly became complete summersaults. He almost bolted out of the room. 

“No!” Malik’s face was already flushed, and now the coral deepened enough for a blush to show through his darker complexion. “I meant I could buy you one to try yourself. I’m sure it’s not something you want to ask Ryou to buy, and since we were already talking about it—I didn’t mean to imply—” 

“No big deal.” Bakura made a grand gesture of shrugging nonchalantly. “Like you said, we’re both adults. Buy me a whole chest of sex toys. I don’t care.”

“A treasure chest.” Malik laughed. 

“Damn right. I’m a thief. I want a treasure chest full of loot.” 

The room echoed with their laughter, but when it faded, the silence flooded between them. Bakura caught himself fanning his face. His gut felt heavy and his pants tight, he wanted nothing more than to race to his room work off the tension. 

“I’ll shop online tomorrow and let you know when everything arrives.” 

“You’re a true bro.” Bakura winked. 

“What are partners for?” Malik asked. 

“Partners? Going to help me get vengeance for old times sake?”

“Nope, but I am going to rush to my room so you don’t have to wait too long to get started.” 

“I’ll take it. Race you.” Bakura shot Malik with his finger before dashing to the second room he pretended to sleep in. 

He plopped on top of the bed, snatching the tissue box on top of the night stand and putting it within reach. Bakura slipped out of his pants, needing to free his erection before it burst. He lay with his hands on his stomach, scolding himself for not starting first, but hey, if Malik was going to buy him sex toys, the least he could do was let Malik start them off. 

Bakura turned his head to the side, as if looking away from a partner who wasn’t in the room with him. He’d jacked off plenty of times in Egypt, but had noticed a slight uptick in frequency since he’d been brought back. He’d written it off as the result of a different body, not once considering how he and Malik were feeding off each other’s late night vibes. The knowledge was like Pandora’s Box, now that it was open, Bakura couldn’t close it. He was hyper aware of his arousal, and wondering how much of it was his and how much was bleed over from Malik. It was hard to tell where his desire ended and Malik’s began. 

A faint sensation tingled around his cock. Without his and Malik’s conversation, he would have never guessed it was anything more than anticipation, but now he’d become aware, he recognized the sensation for what it was—a green light to start. More nervous than he would ever admit, Bakura wrapped his fingers around his hot shaft. 

He admired his body, staring at his flat, white belly and his cock rising in his grasp. He reminded himself he was only jerking off. It wasn’t _with_ Malik, not exactly… perhaps a little. The sense of _another_ should have repulsed him. Had it been anyone else, it would have, but with Malik…

Bakura slid his fist in a teasing rhythm. Malik was beautiful, a golden treasure Bakura wanted to pluck and hold. He thought again of the half moment when he’d misunderstood Malik’s offer about sex toys. Something about the thought thrilled him, terrified him, yet thrilled him. He understood Malik, the pain, the rage, he even understood Malik’s need to move on from the past—envied Malik for it—Malik loved freedom, and a person was never free when one single goal consumed them. That understanding, that strange familiarity Bakura felt despite Malik being an irritant, made the connection they shared because of magic tolerable. 

His guts looped as a opening sensation overwhelmed him. Bakura groaned, loud and low in his throat. A slight hum teased his nerves. The pressure inside him moved, sending spectacular jolts coursing throughout his whole body.

“Oh gods, oh gods.” Bakura panted, spreading his legs wide. 

In and out, in and out, Malik guided the toy at his whim, and Bakura could only ride the pleasure as he tugged at his cock and moaned. He couldn't wait to get a vibraitor of his own so he could feel it full force. Bakura imagined himself shoving the toy deeper into his body, angling it _just so_ against his prostate. Bakura hitched into his fist, toes curling against the duvet. His breaths deepened into throaty grunts as pleasure screamed through him. The more he thought about how he’d fuck himself, the faster his hand moved until, with a sharp cry, Bakura arched his back and sprayed come over his stomach. Time froze for half a beautiful minute, and Bakura sank into the mattress. He grunted in annoyance with himself as he realized he’d forgotten the tissue. Bakura pulled a wad from the box and cleaned himself before flushing everything down the toilet and stumbling to his own room. He wasn’t thinking about Malik, nor vengeance, nor even the fact that he left his pants in the wrong room as he stumbled to the next one in his t-shirt and boxers. 

Bakura fell asleep the moment he crawled beneath his bed, worn out and satisfied. 


	4. Chapter 4

A week later Bakura walked through the mansion. Ryou snuck behind him and tapped his shoulder. Bakura stopped and turned around. Ryou wore a pale blue blazer which would have looked sharp on him had his face been less wan and his eyes less dark. 

“I heard you coming,” Bakura said. 

“Yes, but from where?” Ryou asked.

Bakura frowned. He heard Ryou behind him, but couldn’t guess which one of the myriad hallways he’d come from. 

“You know how much I love old gothic stories, right?” Ryou asked.

“Sure.”

“What if I were to tell you that, as a wedding gift, Seto transformed the house into a gothic-style maze for me, complete with secret passages and more puzzles than a Resident Evil game?” 

“I hope some of the passages are shortcuts. It takes forever to get from my room to anywhere else in the house.” 

“Some are, yes. I’m going to show you three, the first three Seto showed me. You’ll have to discover the rest on your own the same way I did.”

“How do you know you found everything?”

“Because there are three hundred and sixty eight secrets in this house. Which means if you find one a day after today, it’ll take you a year to find them all.”

“How long did it actually take you?” Bakura raised an eyebrow. 

“Three weeks.”

“Then I’ll do it in two.” 

“I expect no less from the King of Thieves.” Ryou laughed. “Follow me. The first one is nearby.” 

In the game room, Ryou walked to a bookshelf rising from floor to ceiling on the side wall. Bakura crossed his arms over his chest.

“You better not pull a book—”

“You know I am! It’s a homage to the classics.”

“It’s ridiculous.” 

“It’s funny. No worse than your awful puns.”

“My brilliant puns,” Bakura grumbled under his breath and Ryou tilted _A Woman In White_ by Wilkie Collins from the bookcase. 

A click echoed throughout the room, and with a slight push, the last section of shelving swung inward, revealing a secret hallway. Ryou gestured to the stone corridor with a smile on his face. 

“Well? Shall we?”

“I don’t have anything better to do with my life.” Bakura kicked the rug and waited for Ryou to lead. 

His sour expression softened the moment Ryou looked away. Bakura’s scarlet eyes darted around the hallway, examining the stonework, lighting, and the rug below their feet. It had enough haunted castle feel to be exciting, but was tasteful enough to seem historical instead of “cheap haunted house.” Bakura compared the hallway they were in to his knowledge of the mansion to guess where they’d end up. He thought they’d pop out near the kitchen, but they slipped out between a tall potted plant in an area Bakura hardly knew. 

“Huh.” Bakura looked around, vaguely remembering the paintings and making a note of them in case he needed to find his way back to this spot. 

“Surprised, right?” Ryou patted the walls. “He did it on purpose, of course, to challenge me and make the game more difficult.” 

“You know, normal couples simply try bdsm.” 

“What would you know about a normal married couple?” Ryou ruffled Bakura’s hair. He slapped Ryou’s hand away, but not as hard as he should have. 

“I know they don’t gut their house for a game.”

“Maybe they would if they had the money, and if they wouldn’t, they’re not as good of a couple as Seto and I am.” Ryou walked down the hall with a haughty bounce in his step. “Hurry up, because if you miss a clue, I’m not giving any more hints.” 

“You realize I robbed tombs as a profession _and_ hobby. I’ll have this place mapped out before the end of the week.”

“We should make a bet,” Ryou said. 

“What sort of bet?” Bakura narrowed his eyes. 

“If you take longer than me to find every secret, you have to give up your vengeance.” 

“Fat chance.” 

“I thought you’d be more confident.” 

“What would I get if I won?”

“A fake passport.” 

“Okay, deal.”

“No. Not anymore. You already lead me to belief you’d welsh if you lost.” 

“Ryou, that’s so rude!” Bakura held his heart. They stopped down a different hallway. It was one of the offshoots to the sunroom. 

“Can you guess the next puzzle?”

Bakura looked at the hall. More art. A statue of a naked woman with a snake slithering around her shoulders. The snake’s head lay near her ear as if whispering to her. A few end tables with plants or heirlooms. Bakura’s lips pressed together.

“Something with the statue. Do we move it?”

“Marble. I wouldn’t be able to budge it.” Ryou walked over to a smaller table. He took an apple from a china bowl of waxed fruit and walked to the statue. “Have you ever heard of Adam and Eve?”

Bakura shook his head no. 

“It’s a creation myth. Two people, a man and a woman, in paradise. They could have anything they wanted as long as they didn’t eat the fruit from one of the forbidden trees, but a snake tricked Eve and convinced her to taste the fruit of the knowledge of good and evil, and human sin was born.” 

“So apples are the core of original sin?” Bakura grinned. 

“This is why you can’t make fun of my bookcase.” Ryou snorted as he tucked the apple into Eve’s palm.

The wall behind her disappeared and turned into a door. 

“Hologram,” Ryou explained as he opened the door before taking the apple out to restore the illusion. 

They descended a flight of stairs, twisted through more secret halls, and then climbed up a spiral staircase. 

“So about my passport…” 

“You know, you’re a lot like Eve. You have paradise around you, but because of all the muttering Zorc did in the Ring, you’re going to cause yourself a lot of grief.” 

“I was trying to kill the Pharaoh long before I found the Ring. Anyway, I want to bet.” 

“And you’ll truly give up your quest for vengeance if you lose?” 

“Sure. Sure. You can trust me.”

“You’re hilarious.” Ryou snorted laughter, stopping and looking at Bakura. “This is going to be fun. Sure. Less than three weeks and I’ll give you a passport.” 

“Keep the coffee going. I won’t be sleeping.” 

“You didn’t know the mythology that gave away the last puzzle. What makes you think you’ll be able to find over three hundred more secrets in less than three weeks?” 

“The same way I broke into tombs in Egypt. Besides, Diabound can help me.” 

“That’s cheating.”

“You never said I couldn’t.” 

“Fine.” Ryou exhaled. “I know I can’t really stop you, but please try not to frighten the maids.” 

Bakura shrugged, neither confirming nor denying if he’d comply with Ryou’s request or not. He saw light slipping through a crack in a wall. He stopped, touching the outline.

“That’s not one of your freebies. I can wait if you want to investigate, but I’m not offering any clues.”

Bakura grunted as he touched the stones around the outline. He also tapped his foot around the floor. When that didn’t work, he fiddled with the sconces designed to look like blue fire lighting the hallway. He found a lever behind the metal work of one, flipped it, and watched a passage open up to the pantry.

“Congratulations.” Ryou patted Bakura’s shoulder. “You found my favorite one. It makes midnight snacks a lot more fun, don’t you think?” 

“Heh.” 

“Come on. Let’s hurry so I can show you the last entrance.”

Bakura shut the door to the pantry and followed Ryou. They ended up in another guest room. Ryou walked to an antique chair and scooted it to the side, kicking up the rug and showing a trap door. 

“It leads to a fake dungeon. There’s a safe down there, but it only contains some legal papers that won’t help you, so please don’t break into it. It’ll be a waste of your time, and we’ll have to buy another fireproof safe.” 

“I’m already ahead of you. You started with three, but I’m already at four.”

“Actually, I started with seven. I found the kitchen entrance and three others the day Seto took me along the exact same course you went through.”

“What?”

“Yes. Guess you’re not as observant as you think you are.” Ryou poked him in the chest. “Anyway. I’m going to take a nap. Have fun tearing through the mansion, Thief King. Let me know how many you find by dinner.” 

***

“Hey, Bakura?” Malik followed him out of the dining room after breakfast the next morning. 

“Don’t you have a home to go to?” Bakura scowled as Malik walked too close beside him. “it’s been three months. Why are you still here?” 

“I’m staying here until Ryou’s birthday.”

“But it’s May.”

“Exactly. Why would I leave Domino when it’s going to get close to 40°C in Luxor? Isis and Mai are busy with their kids. Rishid’s son is in college now, and Rishid himself has been trying to clean up all the old documents from the tombs, filing them, preserving—”

“Isis and Mai? Really?” 

“That’s old news. They started tag team dueling… maybe four years after you left? Fierce. Don’t fuck with those two. They beat Yugi and Seto in a tournament once. I almost choked.” 

“No shit?” Bakura tried to imagine the look on Kaiba and Yugi’s faces when their life points dropped to 0. “Too bad I missed it.” 

“Anyway.” Malik shook his head. “The game we’re testing has a multi player.” 

“Yeah, I noticed,” Bakura said.

“Well, don’t you think we should give it a shot? Make sure the game is balanced even in co-op?” 

Something… tickled, in Bakura’s stomach, when he thought of playing with Malik. Malik smiled at him. Hair always, always, always straw-spun-gold. Bakura knew he should search the mansion for secret passages. He’d found a few dozen his first night— he’d need a lot more to beat Ryou. 

“Bakura?”

“I guess.” Bakura ignored how he’d been staring at Malik. 

“Let’s go to the sun room.” Malik’s laugh lines creased when he grinned. “That’s my favorite place to play.”

“Sure.” Bakura followed Malik. 

Bakura was already on his second playthrough. He'd played straight (more or less) the first time, and now he was playing to see how much he could wreck things. Kaiba grumbled a lot when he read through Bakura’s notes, but Bakura knew it was why Kaiba had chosen him as a beta in the first place, and he was proud each time he discovered a glitch or exploited a loophole that forced Kaiba’s programmers to go back to the the drawing board. 

Yellow sunlight glinted off the glass of the sunroom. Outside, the summer day burst with dark green and pale blue, warm and humid from yesterday’s rainstorm, but inside the room was comfortable, air conditioning blowing all around them. 

“You were right, you know. They built this room for when I visit. Nice to have rich friends, yeah?”

“It’s weird to see you two being friends.” 

“Only because Battle City doesn’t feel so long ago for you. For us, there are decades of better memories.” 

“Malik?” Bakura reached out, realized what he was doing, and dropped his hand. 

“Yeah?” Malik strapped the gaming band to his wrist. 

“When you go back home… would you show me? The memorial?”

Malik stared at Bakura, frowning, brow crinkled. 

“What’s with that look? Do you think it’s a trick to get closer to the Pharaoh?”

“Isn’t it?” Malik gave Bakura a knowing stare. 

“Of course not. How could you?” Bakura gasped in mock offense, annoyed that Malik read him so effortlessly. 

“I’d love to take you, you know. If you ever actually wanted to go. I’d love to show you what Kul Elna looks like. Here…” Malik pulled out his cellphone. It was the size and thickness of a credit card and dark violet. He held a spot in the center and a holographic menu appeared before them. 

“Kul Elna. Egypt. Images.” 

Bakura saw a beautiful town. Market stalls full of spices, a museum, green houses that Bakura suspected doubled as solar panels because of the strange, stained-glass colors, children running in the street. He saw a few pictures of the monument as well, also beautiful. Bakura looked away. 

“That’s not my home.” 

“I’m sorry, I thought it’d make you happy to see.” 

“My Kul Elna was burnt to the ground. It’s dead. They’re dead. Building over their graves doesn’t fix it.” 

“Bakura.” Malik cupped Bakura’s face with his hands. 

Bakura’s eyes widened. The touch surprised him, but it was the tug of grief biting his chest which shocked him. Grief he’d shoved down and buried under 3,000 years of rage. Somehow, a sliver escaped, and Malik felt it with him. Bakura pulled away, wishing he could sever their connection. 

“I’m sorry,” Malik repeated. The silence between them was heavy. Malik toyed with his ear piece. “Let’s play, okay?”

“Good idea,” Bakura muttered, setting up his own gear. 

He was used to the technology now. He floated in the void of space for a moment before he thought of a new co-op game. Malik appeared, floating in empty space. He glowed with a soft, lavender aura. Bakura zoomed toward him. Malik held up his palm. It was only the virtual reality’s way of getting Bakura to accept Malik’s game request, but he still hesitated before pressing their palms together. 

There was a flash and the world was created. A small medieval cottage surrounded them, and a young girl lay in bed with a fever while the doctor explained to them that only a unicorn's magic could reverse the plague killing everyone in the village. A girl Amane’s age. A unicorn hero. The message was so heavy handed that it nauseated Bakura, but Kaiba wouldn’t listen to those complaints. He was surprised Kaiba listened to Bakura’s suggestions on how to tilt the game away from fantasy and closer to horror. Bakura looked forward to the new creatures and dungeons Kaiba had added during the last patch. 

“Why are you a hobbit?” Malik laughed. 

“It’s the best class for thieves.” 

Bakura’s face heated. It also made him the right height, but Bakura wasn’t going to explain _that_ detail. 

“I like your character design,” Malik confessed. “Very bad ass.” 

The fire in his cheeks spread. He’d given himself a body much like the one he owned in his first life. Dark skin, broad features, wiry muscles despite being on the slender side, silver hair, and plenty of scars, especially the one running down his face. 

“I should have figured you’d be a birdtail.” Bakura glanced at Malik. 

He looked much the same except he had the wings and tail feathers of a golden hawk. Malik turned in a slow circle, spreading out his feathers for Bakura to admire. 

“High charisma, and they can fly, which comes in handy.” 

“It will make dungeons easier,” Bakura agreed. “Speaking of, where should we go first?” 

“We should probably equip ourselves before we fight anything.” Malik dug through his backpack to check their meager inventory. “I hate starting from the beginning. There’s never enough money, and grinding for cash annoys the piss out of me.” 

“Give me a moment…” Bakura closed his eyes. 

Grinding be damned. The first thing Bakura learned how to do when he started playing was hack into the system. When he concentrated enough, he was able to do the mental equivalent of pressed the tilde key on a computer keyboard. Then it’d been a simple manner of searching for older KC game console commands to give him an idea of what he might be able to get away with. The first time he’d only given himself extra lock picks, otherwise playing vanilla for the purpose of betaing. Then he’d played a second time to see how much he could break the game. Now, he thought of the code for gold, and felt a weight in his hand. Opening his eyes, Bakura saw the leather pouch filled with 500 gold pieces. 

“Here you go.” Bakura passed the bag over to Malik. 

“How the hell—”

“Shhh,” Bakura pressed a finger to his lips. “Thief King secret.” 

“Playing with you might be a little more fun than I thought.” 

“Who knows? Maybe we’ll become friends after this.” Bakura winked. 

“I’m not letting you see my scrolls, and I’m not taking you to Egypt to cause trouble.” Malik shook his head as he pocketed the gold. 

“You thinking so little of me is hurtful.” Bakura pouted. 

“Oh give it up, Bakura.” 

“I don’t know how to give up,” Bakura said. 

“Can we actually play this game or are we going to chat the entire time?” Malik jangled the wallet full of gold and lead them out of the little cottage.

“I wish I had this technology when I did my Ultimate RPG against the Pharaoh. I can smell the rot from the unburied dead and feel the pebbles under our shoes.” 

“It wouldn’t have changed the outcome.” Malik stepped over a muddy wagon rut in the road as they marched through the town and to the shop. 

“Doesn’t matter. I would have done it anyway.” 

“Would have done, or will do?” Malik glanced over his shoulder. 

“Depends.” Bakura smirked. “Will you let me look at your magic books?” 

“I take back what I said earlier. This is going to be a long, tedious game.” Malik half-groaned. 

“If you’re so sure the outcome would be the same, what’s the harm in letting me try?” Bakura argued. 

“Because you’re too fucking reckless and you don’t care who else you hurt as long as you get what you want.”

“So?”

“So, I’m not putting the people _I care about_ in danger because you won’t go to therapy and deal with your problems.” 

“You’re such a drama queen. I kept the collateral damage to a minimum last time—”

Malik slammed Bakura against the wall of the Apothecary shop, knocking the air from his lungs. Malik grit his teeth, but didn’t wince although slamming Bakura against the wall should have hurt his own back. Bakura leered at Malik, but Malik growled and shouted in Bakura’s face, ignoring the look. 

“You’re a stupid, ignorant pig! You have _no idea_ how much damage you really did! I’m going to lose—” Malik shoved away from Bakura, walking into the mud. “End game.” 

The sun room appeared as Malik walked out. Bakura chased after him.

“Hold on! What the _fuck_ is going on here! Ever since I’ve been back everyone’s been acting weird, and I’m sick of it!” 

“Fuck you!” Malik wiped at his face. “I don’t want to talk about it. You’re a selfish prick who only cares about yourself anyway, so there’s no reason to even let you know!”

“That’s not fair!” Bakura screamed, clenching his fists. “If something’s wrong with my host then—”

“He’s not your fucking host you fucking parasite!” Malik spun around, shoving at Bakura. Each time he spoke a line, he slammed his hands against Bakura’s chest, forcing him back a step. “He’s Seto’s husband! He’s Mokuba’s brother-in-law! He’s my friend! He’s everyone’s friend! He’s one of the best people on this planet and deserved someone better than you playing Shadow Games with his life!” 

“Don’t act like you didn’t do the same!” Bakura smashed his shoulder against Malik’s chest. They crashed onto the ground, yanking at each other’s hair and slapping wherever their hands landed, both of them too emotional to aim. “In Battle City, you were going to let the Pharaoh use Slifer—” 

“I know!” Malik’s scream became a shriek. “I know and I hate myself for it! But at least I’m trying to do better! For thirty years I’ve been trying!”

“Yeah, 30 years! I’ve had a few months, so get off my ass!”

“You’re not even trying! You’re still after Ate—” 

“Don’t say his name! He doesn’t deserve to be remembered!” Bakura screamed in Malik’s face. 

“Then you might as well kill me, too, because you know it’s _his_ memories carved onto my back!” Malik flipped them so he was on top, pinning Bakura’s wrist over his head. 

“I should strangle you!” Bakura strained against Malik’s hold. “Strangle you, steal your magic, go to Egypt, never have to deal with any of you assholes again!”

“Then do it!” Malik brought Bakura’s hands to his own throat so Bakura could follow through with his threat.

Bakura held Malik’s neck. Adrenaline raged through his system, heightened by Malik’s agitation. He could feel the heat radiating from Malik’s skin, the tickle of a sweat drop rolling off of Malik and onto Bakura’s knuckles, the percussion of their heartbeats coursing through their veins. 

“Well pussy? Fucking choke me.” Malik snarled down at him. 

“Not my kink.” Bakura’s hands fell to the carpet. He looked away. “And for the record, since I’ve been back, I haven't done shit to hurt any of you. Think I didn’t consider murdering all of you and flying to the Pharaoh’s tomb in a Blue Eyes jet full of magic scrolls?” 

“Yeah, why didn’t you?” 

“You know that’s not my style.” 

“I know.” Malik collapsed beside him, staring at the ceiling. “You’re like a tornado. You swoop in and leave, and any damage is random not intentional.” 

“What’s wrong with Ryou?” Bakura asked, hoping that evoking his old host’s name would help loosen Malik’s tongue. 

Bakura felt the tightness in his chest and the soreness in his throat as Malik burst into tears. Bakura panicked. Malik wasn’t the type to break down on the floor in a hallway in front of Bakura. He jerked to his knees. Malik buried his face in his hands so Bakura couldn’t see him. Bakura held Malik’s outer shoulders, careful not to touch his scars, and stared at him. Bakura’s eyes watered from their physic link, but he didn’t cry. 

“Malik?”

Malik shook his head no. Terror stabbed Bakura’s chest. He expected Malik to settle after a while, but he didn’t. Couldn’t. 

“Malik!” Bakura hated how small his voice sounded, how desperate. 

“I promised him I wouldn’t tell you! Leave me alone.” 

“Malik, please,” The hoarse, brittle words barely left his throat. He shook as he studied Malik’s tear-blotched face. Malik looked at Bakura, his lavender eyes burning like sulfur. Before he could speak, Ryou’s voice echoed above them.

“I’m very sorry, Bakura, but I’m dying.” 

“What?” Bakura’s stomach dropped out from beneath him. He stared at Ryou’s frail, wan, bone-thin, face. 

“I’m dying,” Ryou repeated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. That was a dirty place to end the chapter. I'd apologize, but we all know I'm not all that sorry lol


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About a quarter of the way done with the story. Time flies. Hope y'all are having a good weekend!

“No.” Bakura shook his head. 

“Don’t worry. I put you in my will and—”

“I can steal money!” Bakura punched the floor.

“I know.” Ryou smiled. It looked tired. 

“How?” Bakura’s nails raked against the carpet. He ground his teeth and locked his jaw. Malik’s break down, the way Seto glared at him, the pieces fit together, but Bakura’s brain refused to admit it. “How?” 

“Remember all those years ago? I shattered my soul to defeat you in our favorite game. _Luonazun_ let me play for a while longer, but the spell is fading.”

“That doesn't make sense.” Bakura shook his head ‘no’ as he denied what he heard.

“Magic doesn’t fix everything, Bakura. Nor does it last forever.” 

“But you transferred your soul—” 

“13 levels worth of character grinding combined with a 00 roll. I guess that equals to 30 years of life. It was a generic spell in a game. The only reason it worked at all was because it was a Shadow Game, but the Items are relics now.”

“Then find a new spell.” Bakura stumbled to his feet bracing himself against the wall. “Find something to extend the old one!” 

“Bakura.” Ryou stepped close, resting a hand onto Bakura’s shoulder. “I know this is hard for you. It’s hard for everyone, but we’ve looked through the spells. We’ve tried them. They aren’t strong enough.”

“Then we’ll bring you back,” Bakura said. “Like you brought me back. Seto can link himself to you and—”

“That won’t work,” Ryou said.

“Dammit, why wouldn’t it work? It worked! I’m proof!”

“It only worked because you were in the Shadow Realm. You can’t bring back someone from the Field of Reeds.” 

“How do you know?”

“It was Yugi’s spell.” Malik spoke to the floor. He hugged his knees into his chest as he sat on the floor. “So even if I would have let you rummage through my things, you wouldn’t have found what you were looking for because I don’t have it. Yugi found the spell and some others in a bank vault when his grandfather died. He tried to use it on his grandfather. He tried to use it on Atem. He even tried to use it on a dead bird we found near the game shop. It doesn’t bring back the dead. Honestly? We were surprised it brought you back from the Shadow Realm. I thought the spell might have been a fake by then.” 

“Do you really think I would have waited thirty years to save you?” Ryou asked, sitting down with his back pressed against the wall. “I tried several spells. Egyptian, Celtic, Chinese, Inca, I studied magic from all over the world. Nothing worked. Magic is particular and unpredictable.” 

“Why did you lie?” Bakura’s nails sank into his forearms as he gripped them. 

“You don’t deal with death very well. I thought it would be best to give you some time to adjust first.” 

“I’m not a fragile little doll who needs to be sheltered from the truth, Ryou!” 

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Ryou pushed himself to his feet. 

“Stop fucking apologizing! You always apologize for everything and it pisses me off! It’s not your fucking fault—it’s mine!” Bakura jumped to his feet, slamming his knuckles into the wall. The plaster crumpled around his fist. Malik winced and held his hand, but Bakura’s chest heaved and the anger dulled the throb in his hand. “It was my Shadow Game! And you’re just going to smile, and apologize, like we bumped into each other in the hallway? Scream at me! Hit me! Do something!”

Ryou wrapped his arms around Bakura, squeezing him. “You asked me why I brought you back. It’s because… if I can’t live—I want you to. I wanted it so badly that when we were all drinking I begged Yugi to let me try the spell. He hesitated, but I told him it was my dying wish, and he couldn’t say no after that, could he?” 

“But Ryou couldn’t tie his life to yours because it’s fading.” Malik stood, combing his hair out of his face as he paced along the rug. “So I volunteered. I knew it would make Ryou happy, and if anyone was going to get stuck with you—well I figured I could deal with you best.” He nudged Bakura with his elbows. “We were partners, afterall.” 

“Ryou… don’t,” Bakura’s voice was thin and shrill. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“You said nothing would hurt me here. You lied.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“I told you to stop apologizing.”

“What are you going to do if I apologize again, kill me?” Ryou laughed. He released Bakura and looked at him. “I’m so sorry, Bakura. I wish I could spare you this pain. I wish I could spare everyone from it.” 

“There’s… got to be something… some way—you’re Yugi’s friend. His friends don’t die. They’re always saved in the end!” 

“Bakura, we all die sometime, and that’s okay. I’m going to see my mother again, and Amane, so I won’t be lonely. I’m only sorry I’m leaving the rest of you behind.”

“I don’t want sorry—I want you alive!” Bakura dashed down the hallway. 

He didn’t know where he was going. He raced through the mansion. He saw a flight of stairs, and jumped them two at a time. More halls, more stairs, the mansion blurred past him until he found himself sitting on the roof, face wet and itching, but he wouldn’t smear the tears off of his cheeks because he wouldn’t admit they were falling. 

“So now you know.” Malik sat down beside him a moment later.

Bakura didn’t have the strength to tell Malik to go away. He squinted at the sun—painting the view of Domino bright gold—and felt the tickle of new tears rolling down his cheeks. 

“Malik, I want to see your spells.”

“Are you going to run away so you don’t have to watch it happen?” Malik asked. 

“I’m going to _stop it_.” 

“Bakura, look at me.” Malik held his face. 

“The Pharaoh can wait, but I still need to see your spells to look for a cure.” Tears stained Bakura’s cheeks, but he didn’t turn away. He wanted Malik to see how serious he was. “Let me see them, dammit.” 

“Bakura, we tried everything—”

“ _You_ tried everything. I didn’t.” 

“Yeah? Are you some great healer we don’t know about?” Malik snorted, the bitterness in his voice betrayed how tired he was.

Bakura summoned Diabound. His ka glowed in the sunlight. White, holy white, and gorgeous. 

“I used him to rob tombs and for revenge, but I always knew… I should have used him for something better, but I never had a chance for anything better. How could I live when everyone else was dead? I couldn’t, so I sacrificed my life and my soul for _my village_.”

Bakura stared at how Dabound shimmered. The royal court called his ka a devil, back in Egypt, but Bakura knew Diabound was a holy ka. He was made for something spectacular, but whatever destiny Diabound may have had was burned to ash along with Kul Elna. 

“He’s magnificent,” Malik whispered, voice soft. “Look.”

Malik summoned his ka as well. It was a golden bird of prey nearly as large as Diabound. The creature circled around Diabound. They brushed against each other for a moment before parting. 

“He’s a Roc _._ Powerful, but better for attacking, not healing.” 

“Diabound could move through stone,” Bakura muttered. He felt as if his insides had collapsed into his stomach, leaving his chest hollow. 

“Rukk is best at tearing things to shreds. We used to spar, Ryou, Rishid, Isis, sometimes Yugi, but he was never good with his ka.” 

“What’s Ryou’s?”

“A kirin. He’s always been the best with healing magic.” Malik squeezed Bakura’s triceps. “Ryou has been working on healing magic his whole life, Bakura. If he can’t heal himself, nothing we do—”

“I won’t let that stop me.” Bakura pulled Diabound back into himself, but it didn’t fill the hole in his chest. He grabbed Malik’s shoulders, pulling them close. “I’ll run myself into the ground if I have to. Isn’t it better? Than going after the Pharaoh? Malik…help me.”

Malik’s breath hitched. Bakura knew, by the way Malik’s eyes dilated, he was remembering that day decades ago, when Malik had asked Bakura for help. On the ship, in a small medical room, possessing Anzu because his own body had been stolen from him, Malik had swallowed his pride and spoke near the same words.

_Bakura…help me._

And Bakura had. It was foolish. He should have made a deal with Malik’s other half who already had the Rod and the secret on Malik’s back, but something about the way Malik had asked… Bakura couldn’t refuse him. 

“Is this really more important?” Malik whispered, drawing his face close to Bakura and studying him. “If you only had a chance to do one—save Ryou or bring back Atem—which would you _really choose_?” 

“That’s not fair.”

“Answer me.” Malik’s grip tightened around Bakura’s arm. “And for once in your life, be honest with yourself.” 

“He… he was my host,” Bakura stumbled over his own words. 

“Bakura.” 

“It wasn’t like Yugi and the Pharaoh! We weren’t friends!” Bakura’s head hung low. His hair flashed harsh, unforgiving white in the sunlight. “But it wasn’t like you and your other half, either. We were somewhere in between.” 

“But what about _now_?”

“Now…”

All the nights in the game room paraded through Bakura’s thoughts. Them exchanging stories, of overcoming orc invasions in table top versions of Monster World, sharing cookies on the kitchen floor. What was a Pharaoh worth? What was killing a dead man worth when…

“It’s not fair.” Bakura moaned, his eyes shutting. Fresh heat seared between his eyelashes as new tears welled up. “Family? Friends? They’re nothing but a weakness, because when they die—” Bakura voice cracked. He lost his breath. 

“You feel broken.” Malik snaked his arms around Bakura, holding him. “You don’t have to say it. I can feel it through our bond, and I’ve felt like this since I found out. I don’t want to lose my best friend either.”

Malik’s tears mixed with Bakura’s as they wept, together. They shook in each other’s arms. The tears burned their faces as the sun burned their arms. After a moment, Malik whispered in a course voice. 

“Anything I brought, you can look at. I don’t know if it’ll do any good, but even if you can give him a little extra time—” Malik’s voice cracked. He pulled away. “Bakura, I’m trusting you, like I did back then.” 

“Gods, my back hurts.” Bakura rubbed at his shoulders, smearing the tears onto his shirt sleeves. 

“You’re rubbing the wrong shoulders to fix it.” Malik used the back of his wrist and dragged the tears off of his face. “My kohl is fucked from all this crying.” 

“You look like a tanuki.” Bakura laughed. 

“Thanks.” Malik snorted. 

Bakura leaned in, rubbing the smudges from Malik’s cheeks. “See, what you have to do is blend the pain and suffering right into the skin, until it creates a classic smokey eye.” 

Malik tilted his head back to laugh. Bakura chuckled beside him, noticing the way the sunlight set Malik’s hair and jewelry on fire. 

“So when can we start?”

“Tomorrow,” Malik said. “You know Ryou likes to play games after dinner.”

“I know.” Bakura nodded. “I look forward to them.” 

“I should have known games are the way to your shriveled, black heart. You’re kinda like Seto in that respect. Should we go back to playing our RPG?” 

“In a bit.” Bakura shifted until he sat behind Malik, lighting his fingertips on Malik’s trapezius muscles. 

“What are you doing?” Malik asked, but he didn’t tense when Bakura touched him. 

“Rubbing the right muscles. I can’t stand it anymore.” Bakura circled his thumbs into Malik’s traps. 

Malik sighed, the tension leaking from his body as Bakura worked. “I know you’re being selfish, and doing it for yourself, but this is amazing.” 

“There’s no reason we can’t both enjoy it, even if my motivations are a little selfish,” Bakura said, his voice neutral, but the nervous bubbling in his stomach which happened when he was close to Malik became a roaring boil as he kneaded Malik’s shoulders. 

“You’re right, and I do love taking the advantage of any situation.” Malik slid his hair over his neck so Bakura could massage deeper into Malik’s muscles. 

Bakura seized the opportunity, pressing more firmly into Malik’s skin and drawing a soft groan from both their mouths. With a deep exhale, Bakura felt the tension smooth away from his aching body. 

“We should really have more sense than to fight each other,” Bakura said. 

“I know.” Malik laughed. “Let’s stick to messages and masturbation from now on.” 

“You gonna return the favor if I rub your neck again later?” 

“What’s the point? You reap the same benefits I do, even when you do all the work.” 

“Typical. You haven’t changed much, you know that?” Bakura snorted. 

“I’d say the same goes for you, but I guess you’re a little more tolerable than I give you credit for—when you’re not pissing me off. Which is all the time, by the way.”

“All the time?” Bakura leaned close, speaking into Malik’s ear as his thumbs dipped lower. “Even now?”

He felt a spark ignite down to the pit of his stomach. His mouth dropped at the sensation. Something about him speaking into Malik’s ear had caused a strange reaction in both of them that heightened exponentially when combined through their bond. Bakura pulled his hands away. 

“We should play our game.” 

“Yeah.” Malik drew hieratic on his knee. “If nothing else, Ryou’s going to flip when he sees his present, right?” 

“Hmph.” Bakura pulled the wristband from his pocket. “Probably.” 

“Know what job class you’re going to be?” Malik stopped himself with a laugh. “Nevermind, of course you’ll be a thief. I don’t know what I was thinking when I asked.”

“Actually.” Bakura kept his gaze on the wristband and not Malik. “I’m going to be a white wizard.” 

“Are you joking?”

“Ha right?” Bakura forced a grin on his face. “No. I want the challenge. It’s the most useless job class, so it’s the most difficult.” His grin became real as he thought back to decades ago when his host started playing the game. “That’s why Ryou chose it, did you know that?”

“I figured he wanted to heal people.”

“He wanted to play the hardest job class. Why should I let that prick show me up?” 

“Well then, guess I should rethink my strategy. If you’re a white mage, I shouldn’t be a magician. Maybe a warrior?” 

“Be whatever. I can take care of myself without a tank bailing me out of trouble.” 

Malik didn’t answer, instead he logged into their session. Bakura slipped on his own earpiece and joined him. They returned to their spot outside the apothecary shop where they’d fought. Malik stared at a list of job classes. 

“Martial artist might be fun.” 

“Be something useless. Be an illusionist.” 

“I could be a dancer.” Malik chuckled, tapping at the “dancer” option and admiring what his character profile would look like in the costume. 

“They stole that from Final Fantasy. Squaresoft should sue Kaiba Corp.” 

“No more than Wizards of the Coast should sue Squaresoft, or whoever owns D&D now.”

“What other job classes did they take from Final Fantasy?”

“Let’s see.” Malik backed out of the screen to the main class list. 

Bakura leaned over his shoulder and read all the options. He’d never bothered before, always choosing thief. He saw some Neverwinter rip offs as well as Final Fantasy ones, but reached over Malik to point at a specific one.

“There. Summoner. Choose that.”

Malik clicked it and scowled. “The costume is ugly.”

“Who cares? So’s mine. But you can summon monsters like ka to use to attack.” 

“I can do that in real life. I’d rather do something different here. I’m choosing dancer.” 

“We’re going to get slaughtered.” Bakura laughed. “This is going to be the best worst game in the history of RPGs.” 

“Let’s buy our gear and then grind a little. We’re going to need it.” Malik opened the door to the shop. 

Bakura sucked in a deep breath. He could smell rosemary, coriander, and cinnamon mixed with various incenses and something bitter in a way that only poison is bitter. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the meager torch light. The more he played the game, the more he loved it. The immersion was perfect. Kaiba was going to destroy humanity with the game because Bakura couldn’t imagine anyone wasting their time going on dates when they could play RPGs instead. 

They loaded up on healing potions and status boosting scrolls. Bakura purchased a basic staff and he ripped up a typical white wizard robe, tying it around his waist like a long shenti instead of a proper robe.

“Trying to show off your chest?” Malik stared at Bakua as he modified his outfit. 

“You’re one to talk. You look like you belong in a harem.” 

“But I dual wield scimitars.” Malik winked. “And you have a stick.” 

“Uppity talk for someone who used to walk around in real life with a Rod all the time.”

“My Rod allowed me to control an army of mind slaves. Your stick heals boo-boos.” 

“Shut up and let’s go.” Bakura left the town gates and headed toward the woods. 

“Not the woods,” Malik said. “The monsters are more difficult.” 

“Exactly. We’ll level up quicker.”

“We’ll die quicker.” 

“Don’t be a wimp.”

“Whatever. Let’s do it your way. I’m going to laugh when you get your ass handed to you by hobgoblins.” 

“Laugh when you’re level three before dinner time.” 

The sun was bright against their skin, much like in real life on the roof before they started playing, but the moment they stepped beneath the trees, cool shade washed over them. The scent of pine sap drifted through the air, and their feet crunched through dry needles and fallen twigs. Bakura froze with his staff in front of him when a wolf leapt out from the holly bushes. Malik slashed with each sword and the wolf dropped to the ground. 

“Don’t worry Bakura,” Malik said, his voice silky and facetious. “I’ll protect you.” 

Bakura rolled his eyes. Lifting his staff, he cast a basic barrier and a dexterity boost on both of them. They fought more wolves. Malik only had a level one sword dance, but his double hits were enough to take out a wolf each turn, whereas Bakura trying to hit one upside the head with his staff managed to piss the creature off. After the battle, Bakura’s shoulder was a bleeding mess of torn sinew. 

“Leave it… to Kaiba… to code realistic injuries… fuck.” 

“It’s his brand at this point.” Malik winced as he stared at the lacerations. “Need a potion?”

“I got this.” Bakura pressed a hand to his shoulder, healing it half way. “I fucking hate level one.” Bakura grit his teeth and cast the spell a second time to finish healing the injuries. 

“Promote up to a cleric or paladin later so you can wear heavy armor.”

“I hate armor.” 

“You’re not seriously thinking becoming a white sorcerer, are you?”

“I am doing this for the challenge of it.” Bakrua grinned. 

He had just enough time to cast another barrier on Malik before their first goblin attacked from behind. Malik slashed with his swords, but the creature with grey, leathery skin and black talons remained standing after both attacks. He shattered Bakura’s level one barrier with his first dagger, and lunged at Malik with his second. Bakura jumped in the way, taking the attack himself before casting another barrier. Malik double slashed again. The goblin hunched low, wounded, but standing. Bakura took another hit for Malik, skipping the barrier and using his turn to recover from some of his own damage. On the third round Malik killed the goblin. Bakura held his bleeding stab wound. 

“Dammit, I hate being a useless fucking mage. I’m out of MP.” 

“Here.” Malik uncorked a potion—green for mana—and poured the liquid into Bakura’s mouth. 

“Thanks.” Bakura dried his mouth with the back of his hand before sewing up the last wound. 

“I can’t feel your injuries,” Malik said. 

“Yeah, that was the whole point of me getting them.”

“I meant our connection doesn’t work in the game, stupi—wait, you were taking the attacks on purpose?” He stared at Bakura, eyes glowing the same purple as coriander blooms in the desert sunlight. 

“Obviously.”

“I thought you doing it to farm extra XP from healing yourself.” 

“I get the same XP no matter who I cast the spell on.” Bakura shrugged, realizing he’d said too much. 

“So… you were protecting me? Is this some trick, or—” 

“Shut up, Malik. It’s no big deal.” 

“Just be honest and let me be grateful!” Malik yelled, punching the trunk of a pine. “Gods, you piss me off so damn much!” 

Bakura held his stomach, laughing. Malik glared at him before the laughter caught like a virus, and he plopped beside Bakura so they could laugh together. 

“Okay, maybe I was contradicting myself a little.” Malik shrugged. 

“Just a little.” Bakura measured the amount with his thumb and forefinger.

“So? You all healed up now?” Malik ran his pointer finger along the area that had been a stab wound a moment prior. 

“I…” Bakura stared at Malik’s finger with glazed eyes, his mouth slack. 

“Sorry.” Malik pulled his hand back. “It’s just, I’ve adjusted to always feeling you in the background, so it’s strange not knowing if you’re hurt in the game.” 

“HP is 20. I’m good to go. A few more of those bastards and we’ll make it to level 2.” 

“I’ll keep an eye on our ether supply.” Malik stood, extending his hand to Bakura. 

Bakura allowed Malik to pull him up. He cast a barrier on both of them, increased Malik’s dexterity once again, and lead Malik through the brush of the woods in search of more battles. 


	6. Chapter 6

Despite being past midnight, Bakura searched his room for secrets. He found a door behind a tapestry which would be helpful when he snuck from one room to the next. The second room had a false air vent leading to a crawl space, so Bakura decided to follow it. Real cobwebs stuck to his face and hair as he shimmied through the tunnel. It reminded him of robbing tombs. 

Blue light flickered ahead of him. The light grew brighter until he crawled into what he considered the “main hall” in Ryou’s secret maze. Bakura snorted dust out of his nose and stood. He was close to the kitchen, so he headed in that direction. Behind him, footsteps padded softly against the carpet. Bakura pulled out his pocket knife and hid in a corner, waiting for the inevitable ambush. Ryou walked by wearing blue and white silk pajamas. 

“Dammit, Ryou. I almost stabbed you. Why were you sneaking up behind me?”

“Bakura?” Ryou tilted his head. “Sneaking? I always go to the kitchen this way at night. Honestly, who’ would attack you in a secret hallway in a mansion swarming with security?” 

“You never know.” Bakura shoved the knife back into his pocket. 

“So you liked the gift?”

“You do know my tastes.” 

“Does this mean… we’re friends now?” Ryou leaned close, pressing his forehead against Bakura’s. 

“I’m not turning away a free knife.” Bakura stepped aside. “Anymore than a free mansion, free food, free clothes—why the hell do you talk to me, again?” 

“Because midnight snacks taste better with a friend. Come on.” Ryou grabbed Bakura’s hand and dragged him to the pantry exit. “What shall we eat tonight?” 

“Well, let’s see.” Bakura climbed onto the kitchen counter and popped the doors opened. “We have a superb selection of chips, crisps, crackers, candies, and enough cookies to rot every tooth from both our skulls. Let’s eat these.” He pulled out a box of anko-filled mochi. 

“Okay.” Ryou tried to pull himself onto the counter, but gasped, half collapsing from the effort. 

Bakura dropped to the floor. He held Ryou by the waist and lifted him onto the counter before slipping beside him and opening the mochi. 

“So… you really are…”

“Dying. Say it.”

“No.” Bakura shook his head. 

“Please. I need you to be okay with this.” 

“Well, I’m not, so kiss my ass.” 

“I’m not asking you to celebrate, but I want to make sure you don’t do anything _stupid_.” 

“Like go after the Pharaoh once you’re gone?” Bakura shoved one of the dumplings at him. 

“Exactly.”

“What makes you think I’ll wait until you kick the bucket to leave? I could be gone tomorrow for all you know.” Bakura forced a laugh from his throat. It was sandpaper scraping against his esophagus. 

“Because I know you. If you admit it or not, we’re friends, so I know you’re upset. I know you’re going to try and save me, and I know when you fail you’re going to freak out, and I can’t bear the thought of you hurting yourself because you think you failed again.” 

“Then I guess I won’t fail this time.” Bakura sank his teeth into the chewy rice dough coating. 

“How many more secrets have you found in the house?” Ryou took a bite of his own. 

“Maybe a dozen more.” 

“You’ll have to do better if you want a passport.” 

“Don’t care,” Bakura muttered, dropping the rest of the mochi into Ryou’s lap. “I don’t… need it anymore.” 

“I know this is hard.” Ryou wrapped his arms around Bakura. Ryou’s soft mess of hair tickled Bakura’s face, but Bakura didn’t push it away, nor would he look at Ryou. He stared at the counter beside them. 

“How dare you. How dare you make me care _knowing_ you were dying. How dare you,” Bakura whispered into Ryou’s hair. 

“I notice you and Malik have been getting along,” Ryou said. 

“No we don’t. We can’t go five minutes without fighting.” 

“And then you’re in a corner laughing together.” Ryou pulled back, holding Bakura’s hands. “Take care of him for me, when I’m gone. He’s going to take it as hard as you.”

“He has his siblings.” Bakura pulled his hands away. 

“They won’t understand the way you do. He still regrets Battle City.” 

“Don’t we all.” Bakura stole another mochi and gnawed at it. “I regret siding with him and not his other half. Maybe I could have gotten shit done the other way around—why’d you have to fucking save your friends!” Spit flew from Bakura’s mouth as he screamed the last line. “You could have just let it end then and there! You would have been fine! You didn’t have to shatter your soul!” 

“Bakura, you know damn well I don’t regret protecting them. You know damn well I’d rather die than let others get hurt.”

“I know. I know.” Bakura’s fingers curled into fists. “I underestimated you. I never expected you to pull a stunt like that, but it worked out so it was no harm no foul—I thought.” Bakura slid off the counter, pacing. His fingers clawed at the spikes of hair. He growled. “I killed you. You stole thirty years, but in the end, I killed you.” 

“The way I see it,” Ryou said, “You owe me your life, since you killed me and I saved you from the Shadows.”

Bakura jerked his head up, staring at Ryou. 

“So, I want you to take the life you owe me, and live it to the fullest. No more hating dead kings, and no more vengeance, and no more hating yourself for being unable to save or avenge your village. Starting right now, live better.” 

“I don’t know how.” Bakura shook his head, trembling. “I honestly don’t know how.” 

“You have a lot of passion. Find a project to channel it into.” 

“I’m going to study magic,” Bakura said. 

“Find anything else.” Ryou shook his head. 

“Why? You learned it. Afraid I’ll be better than you?” 

“I’m afraid you’re only learning magic to save me, and when you fail you’ll self destruct.” 

“Can’t really self destruct, not with Malik tied to me the way he is.” Bakura shoved his fists into his pockets. Ryou’s gaze made the fine hairs on his neck prickle. 

“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you sincerely consider how your actions will affect someone else. Thank you, Bakura.” 

“Too little, too late.” Bakura folded his legs below him, sitting on the floor and looking up at Ryou. “I am sorry.” He shook his head. “See how useless it is to say it?”

“It wasn’t useless. To finally hear you say it makes me feel better. I thought the plate was as close as you were going to get.” 

“Magic fixed the plate.”

“Sure. It's a stupid plate,” Ryou said. “I’m a little more complicated then a circle of glass.” 

“Being a Kaiba sure has taught you to back talk, hasn’t it?” 

“Perhaps.” Ryou lifted up the box. “We each have one more. Eat this with me.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Bakura crawled back to the counter and took his final mochi. 

“I’ve had fun these last few months. It’s been a long time since I’ve spent more than a weekend with Malik, and who would have guessed you’re actually fun to hang out with?” 

“Don’t ruin my reputation, Ryou.” 

“You said my name.” Ryou squeezed Bakura’s shoulder. 

“You’re still my gracious host, don’t worry.” 

“This is what we should be doing, until the spell fully fades and I’m gone.” 

“Eat dessert?”

“Yes.” Ryou nudged Bakura with his elbow. “Have fun. Talk. Laugh. I don’t want to cry. You can cry afterward, okay?”

Bakura nodded. If he knew anything, it was how to hold back and force himself to be strong. 

“Seto’s going to take my ashes and blend them with plastic and make Monster World dice. You’re getting one of the sets.” 

“Oh good, you broke my last pair of possessed dice, only fair that you replace them.”

“I want everyone to play one last game with me after I’m gone.”

“You fucking godsdamn son-of-a-bitch, you’re going to make me play with Yugi and those other assholes without even getting to steal their souls?” 

“Life’s hard, Bakura. Sometimes you have to play a game and have fun without using the forces of darkness. I know, it’s ridiculous, but that’s how it is.” 

“I’m going to be a White Wizard in the game.” 

“Then I’ll make sure you always roll Criticals.” Ryou leaned his head against Bakura’s shoulder. “I promise I’ll watch over all of you, but especially you, Malik, and Seto. You three are hopeless.” 

“You should go to sleep.” 

“I guess.” Ryou yawned. “Walk me through the hall?” 

“Sure.” Bakura slid off the counter, threw away the trash, and helped Ryou to his feet. They took the exit through the pantry, and he and Ryou separated at a fork in the main hall. 

Bakura didn’t go to his room, however. He strolled to the sunroom, laying on Malik’s chaise and staring up at the stars through the glass ceiling. 

“Hey,” Malik’s voice broke through the silence. 

“Hey. Did I wake you?” Bakura asked. 

“Maybe? I’m not sure if it was you or a dream. Want to talk about it?”

“What’s there to talk about? Ryou’s dying and it’s my fault. And the worst part? If we could somehow go back and warn myself about what would happen, my past self would laugh and do it all over again. He wouldn’t give a single fuck.” 

“But you do now.”

“For all the good it does.” 

“We can’t judge ourselves by who we were. All of us were assholes back then, but now we’re… less violent assholes.” 

“Says you.” Bakura broke into a grin at Malik’s words. “I just don’t have anyone worth stabbing at the moment.” 

“I feel honored I’m not on your to-stab list.” Malik sat beside Bakura on the chaise. 

“It’d be like stabbing myself. I do that all the time, no excitement to it anymore.” 

“Speaking of stabbing yourself. I got a package today.” 

“Oh?” Bakura sat up, raising an eyebrow. “Give it to me.” 

“Not yet. I haven’t picked out a chest to put everything in yet.” 

“Forget the chest. Gimme now.” 

“Greedy.” Malik poked Bakura’s stomach. Bakura laughed and smacked his hand away. Malik’s eyes lit up. “Ticklish and greedy.”

“No you don’t—”

“Yes I do—” Malik dug his fingers into Bakura’s sides. He curled up into himself, kicking against Malik’s chaise. Malik laughed and squirmed as well. He lifted his hands to break the sensation. “You’re lucky I can’t tickle you without laughing myself.” 

“But what if I do… this!” Bakura lunged to Malik’s center, slipping his fingers beneath Malik’s tank top and dancing his fingers over Malik’s ribs. Bakura didn’t feel a thing.

“Nice try.” Malik mussed Bakura’s hair. “But I’m not ticklish. Feel free to turn all that effort into a massage, if you want.” 

“Not even your feet?” Bakura grabbed Malik’s foot and dropped it into his lap.

 _That_ worked. Bakura laughed out loud as Malik twisted away from Bakura’s fingers. He managed to kick free, but Bakura grabbed his opposite leg instead, tickling the other foot. They almost toppled off the chaise, but Bakura wrapped his arms around Malik to keep him from falling and pulled Malik into his lap. They sat for a second, catching their breaths. 

“Thanks.” Malik panted. 

“Didn’t want to hurt you again,” Bakura whispered. 

“No?” Malik brushed a lock of white hair behind Bakura’s ear. 

“No.” Their gazes caught, Malik’s eyes like a field of morning glories blooming after dawn. 

“Hmm… maybe I’ll give you… _one toy_ , but you have to wait on everything else.” 

“How much did you buy?” Bakura laughed again. 

“Well, I saw some stuff I wanted for myself, too, so I figured I’d buy doubles.” Malik stood, grabbing Bakura’s hands and pulling him to his feet. “Come to my room.” 

“ _Come to my room, Bakura, and let me shower you with sex toys_. Damn, this deal sounds amazing.” Bakura allowed Malik to drag him to the Malik’s bedroom. 

“Quick tutorial on the way because I know the second you get the shiny new toy in your hand your attention span is going to be gone. The condoms are for quicker clean up. The lube is toy and latex safe, so get the same brand or something comparable once it runs out. I bought you toy cleaner, too.” 

“Uuugh, sex toys sound like a lot of work.”

“You’re such a lazy asshole.” 

“And you’re—hold on—” Bakura pulled himself away to examine an oil painting on the second floor hallway. Behind it there was a switch, and when Bakura flicked it, another narrow doorway opened up in the wall. 

“Ah yes.” Malik nodded. “I should have figured Ryou would show you his life-sized doll house of horror.” 

“He said if I could find all his secrets in less than three weeks, he’d give me a fake passport.”

“Did he?” Malik leaned against the wall, his eyes locked on the rug leader. 

Bakura shut the passage, noting it for later exploration. He leaned closer toward Malik, but Malik didn’t budge or look up. 

“Hey,” Bakura said. 

“What?”

“Don’t get pissy with me, I’ve been wasting too much time playing games with _you_ to possibly beat Ryou’s time. I still want to find all the secrets though.” 

“Why would you...” Malik raised his face. “But that means—”

“It means I’m staying here for awhile, and you’re teaching me magic. Or did you already forget?” 

“I didn’t know a passport was on the table when we made that deal.” 

“Yeah, it was, but… plans change. I pride myself on my adaptability.” 

“You pride yourself on your everything.” 

“When you’re all this.” Bakura gestured down his body. “It’s warranted pride.” 

Malik exploded into laughter. It spilled over to Bakura and they leaned together laughing in a hallway at 3am. The sides of their heads pressed together, hair tangling like beams of sunlight bursting through white clouds. They turned at the same time, bumping noses, laughing, and looking away. Bakura’s stomach squirmed; he wrote it off as excitement to use the toy. Malik led the way without speaking, and Bakura followed. The corners of his lips turned upward when he saw Malik’s room. Lavender walls, huge windows, mirrors set where they’d catch the daytime sun and further brighten the area. Ryou’s attention to detail and Malik’s preferences showed in every corner.

“Okay, demonstrate this toy for me.” Bakura dropped backward onto the bed, spread eagle. 

Malik dug through a cardboard box in his closet, pulling out a black wand. There were four balls along the shaft of the wand, similar to pictures of anal beads Bakura had seen on the internet. The tip was the smallest ball, and they grew in size with the thickest ball near the base. 

“I charged it for you because I knew you’d want to try it right away.” Malik lay beside Bakura pointing to some symbols near the base. “Power. Speed. Vibration settings.” 

“There’s settings? Hot damn.” Bakura reached out, wanting to touch the toy. 

“Before you go.” Malik held the wand out of reach. “You want to play a game?”

“A sexy game?” Bakura lowered his lids. His stomach trembled with anticipation. 

“Maybe,” Malik sang as he caressed the toy. “I know you’re going to try this the second your pants are down, so here’s the game. Pick a random pattern and stick with it, and tomorrow I’ll tell you my guess of which one you used.” 

Bakura licked his lips, eyes glued to the wand and the way Malik’s thumb teased it. They hadn’t intentionally jerked off at the same time since the first night they figured out their connection extended to pleasurable sensations and not only backaches and knife wounds. 

“No pressure.” Malik shoved the toy against Bakura’s chest. “It seemed like a fun idea, but—”

“Does sound fun.” Bakura held Malik’s hand so they both held the toy at the same time. “Also sounds like sex, using each other to get off.” 

“What? This is completely different. It’s—” Malik laughed, face flushed. His argument died and silence filled the room before Malik spoke again. “Okay… thinking about it, I guess it is the same, but it’s just you, so…” Malik’s eyes were dilated, and his lips were plump as his tongue darted across them. 

“Just me. I’m okay.” Bakura grinned. “Once you play a Shadow Game with a guy and get blasted by god together, what’s a little mutual masturbation, eh?” 

“Something like that.” Malik looked at their joined hands. “Although it has more to do with the last few months, really.”

“You gonna show me all the settings now so I have an idea of what to choose?” 

“ _Pfffff,_ suppose so, otherwise you'd pick the first one.” 

“Never claimed to be patient.” Bakura winked, enjoying the grin it put on Malik's face. 

He felt light, giddy, and utterly ridiculous, but he couldn't stop himself. He nudged a little closer to Malik on the bed as Malik settled beside him again. Malik turned on the toy, and a soft hum filled the room.

“Speed settings.” Malik clicked through the lower, medium, high, frequencies before moving to the last button. “And patterns.” 

He clicked it once and the wand pulsed. Bakura licked his lips, already wanting to try it. Malik clicked again and the pattern changed to short-short-long. The third pattern was two longer hums, followed by pulsing, and then ending in a extended hold of regular vibration. Bakura's fingers twitched. He could have finished himself off _thinking_ about each option _._ Watching Malik's fingers move along the toy wasn't helping. It was going to be a long, hard walk back to his room. Bakura chuckled.

“What?” Malik asked, still cycling through the patterns. 

“I was thinking about puns.” 

“Sorry if I'm boring you.” Malik turned off the toy and passed it to Bakura, sitting up and away from him. 

“Dirty puns,” Bakura clarified once his saw the irritation on Malik’s face. 

Malik glanced over his shoulder. “Do tell.”

“They weren’t _good_.”

“Puns rarely are. I imagine yours are extra awful.”

“Well, you did imply I was your pun-ishment for everything you did when you were younger?” 

Malik rolled his eyes, but he shifted so he faced Bakura again. Bakura sat up and leaned forward, as if he could fill Malik’s vision and be the only object in Malik’s gaze. 

“I was thinking It was going to be a _long hard_ walk from here to my room after watching you fondle that thing.” 

Malik’s cheeks darkened another shade. He picked at the embroidery of his duvet. “Thinking of me touching your balls, are you?”

“All four of them.” Bakura ran a finger down the beads of his wand. “But I already knew you were good at pushing my buttons—you’ve been doing it since the first day we’ve met.” 

“I can help you with the long hard walk to your room.” Malik went to the wall to the left of the bed. A mosaic art piece hung across from one of the mirrors. “You have to be here at the right time, but when the sun strikes that mirror over there, a beam hits this tile, and if you press it…”

Malik pressed into the dark blue diamond and another passage appeared. Bakura stood and peaked his head inside. 

“Elevator?” 

“Yup. Figured it was okay to show you since you’ve already forfeited your bet with Ryou.”

“Yeah.” Bakura scratched the back of his head, feeling sheepish. 

“Here.” Malik grabbed a velvet bag off of his dresser and tossed it to Bakura. “The lube, condoms, cleaner, charging cord, everything you need. 

Bakura grunted in lieu of a thank you and slung the satchel over his shoulder. He leaned against the frame, staring at Malik. 

“Goodnight,” Malik muttered to the floor, examining his manicure. 

“I imagine it will be with my new friend to keep me company.”

A flash of panic lit Malik’s expression, but then it evaporated. “The vibrator. Yeah, bout time you make a friend, you damn, antisocial nerd.” 

Bakura shoved his other hand into his pocket. His knife was a small comfort against his fingers, but couldn’t assuage the tension tugging at his nerves. He wanted to run to his room; he wanted to stay and stare at Malik. 

“If you don’t hurry, I’m going to start without you,” Malik snapped, marching to his bed. 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Bakura snorted. 

“It defeats the purpose of the game if you’re here with me. I’ll know which setting you choose.” 

“You’re smart. I’m sure you’d think of a new game.” Bakura smirked. 

“Naturally.” Malik lay on his bed, eyes trained on Bakura. “I’m not bluffing. You have five seconds to scram or this becomes a different game.”

To punctuate his point. Malik popped the button loose from his jeans. Bakura’s stomach looped-de-looped. He stepped back, stumbling into the elevator and almost falling on his ass. Bakura’s brain couldn’t process how he’d misstepped, but decided to save as much face as he could by slamming the ‘down’ button and running away. 

“Later!” He called to Malik as he disappeared down the narrow elevator shaft. Malik said something, but it didn’t reach Bakura. 

Bakura shoved his hands into his pants, readjusted his cock to point up instead of down his thigh, and made the awkward walk to his spare room. He dropped to the bed. Grabbing a pillow, Bakura shoved it over his face and screamed. He’d had a chance to see Malik take off his pants and he’d choked like some kid who’d never shuffled a deck before trying to play his first game of Duel Monsters. 

Which brought a whole separate set of questions to his mind. Such as—when did he decide seeing Malik without pants was something he’d enjoy? And why couldn’t he get their moment in the hallway out of his mind? The memory of their noses bumping while they laughed together was on a repeating loop, and Bakura wanted to send the damn thought to the Shadow Realm, but it refused to go away. Bakura beat the back of his head against his bed. He could feel Malik’s impatience to start, so he clawed his clothes away from his body and grabbed the wand and condoms. Another ping of impatience bit at the back of his mind. Growling, Bakura twisted his own nipple in retaliation. 

“Do you like this you impatient asshole? I’ll fuck myself when I’m good and ready and you can wait.” 

A jolt shot through his nerves, both from himself twisting his nipple and because Malik _had_ enjoyed it _._ Fire spread across Bakura’s entire face. He’d been aiming for less aroused and more annoyed, but like always, his plans backfired on him. Bakura blocked his thoughts with actions, rolling down the condom on the toy, and drenching it with the lube. He eased the first ball into his ass. It popped in easy enough, so he pushed in the second one as well. Bakura panted, slipping the second ball in and out a few times before working his way to the third ball. There was a sense of _finally_ from far away, and Bakura silenced the emotion with another twist of his nipple. 

Bakura's eyes rolled back. He held his breath as he maneuvered the last ball into his ass. It was the thickest, and Bakura's breaths grew ragged as he adjusted to the toy’s girth. He didn't need the vibration features, his cock strained and he was a few strokes away from a wild orgasm, but there was a game to play, and Bakura never turned down a good game. 

He clicked on the toy, groaning as the vibrations hummed up his body. He slid the toy out and back in, moaning and curling his toes. Bakura couldn't think. He clicked the button a random number of times and ended with a rhythm of three long presses and a vibrating hold.

“Oh shit,” Bakura moaned as the wand tingled inside of him.

He pulled out the two largest balls before easing them back in. When the vibrator held it’s longest hum Bakura would press it deeper, angling it toward his prostate. A slight pressure squeezed his shaft. Bakura realized Malik was stroking himself. Bakura grit his teeth, his body hot and aching with need. To draw things out, he avoided his shaft, instead focusing on easing the wand in and out while twisting one nipple and then the other. The mild pressure around his dick continued to move as he siphoned off of Malik’s pleasure. 

“ _Nnngggh, Malik_!” Bakura whined, unable to resist crying out. 

He grabbed his cock, squeezing and pulling with his right hand as his left angled the toy inside him. He thought of Malik undoing his jeans button, and a tingle zipped through him. He thought of their noses bumping as they stood too close, and Bakura ached for something he didn’t even believe in. His breath was frantic. His hips hiked up with a will of their own. Bakura’s needy whines grew shrill and desperate as the tension pulling at him threatened to snap. With a deep cry, he bucked a final time and spurted onto his stomach as his orgasm consumed him. Bakura pulled the beads out slowly, drawing the pleasure a moment longer and doubling the shivers raking through him. Boneless, he sank against the bedding. He tugged a corner of the duvet around him, and passed out without a second thought. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was packing to leave and realized that I don't want to post an update on Easter. At this point I should probably just update on Fridays lol

Bakura woke the next morning crusty and stuck to the blanket. He wrinkled his face at the mess he’d made and stumbled to his feet. He worked on cleaning the toy first, and making sure the condom was buried at the bottom of the waste bin. He was glad he’d used the stupid thing because it was easier cleaning up the greasy mess left over from the lube after tossing the condom. He rolled the blankets in a ball and threw them down the laundry shoot, hoping for the best (the best being not to get lectured about giving the maids more work), and then drew a bath for himself. 

Bakura twisted his hair into a bun-like mess and soaked in the tub. The night before drifted back to him in a pleasant haze of pleasure and raw need. He wanted to see Malik. He told himself he was curious about the game. It was good to know _how invasive_ the spell really was, but… he also wanted to see Malik for the sake of it. 

Bakura whined again. Not, this time, from desire, but because his brain was overloading. Why was his stomach jittery? Why did he want to find Malik and say anything to make Malik laugh, or pay attention to him. Something was _wrong_ with Bakura. He didn’t act this way. He didn’t act— 

_Lovesick_. 

Bakura groaned again, hiding his face in his hands. 

Maybe he’d be lucky. Maybe it was only a bad case of lust. Maybe they could work through everything with a couple of blow jobs and get it out of their system once and for all. Bakura stared at his hands, noticing the wrinkles, and decided to stop stalling and go to breakfast. He hid his toy beneath his real bed, dressed, and used the secret passage ways to get to breakfast less late than he would have otherwise. 

“You’re finally awake.” Ryou looked up from his porridge when he saw Bakura sneak into the dining room. “Did you stay up all night searching the mansion?” 

“Yes. I found three more secrets.” 

“Only three?” Ryou tilted his head, mouth twisted in a confused knot. 

“Malik showed me one of them, so I guess I lose the bet after all.” Bakura swung in the seat next to Malik, bumping their shoulders together before taking a swig of orange juice. “What a shame. Means I’m stuck here until I think of a different plan.” 

“You’re always welcome.” Ryou smiled. 

“I have to go.” Seto folded his napkin, stood, and kissed Ryou several times on the top of his head and the side of his face. “Call me if you need anything.” 

“It’s bad enough I can’t get any work done right now. I’m not slowing you down.” Ryou frowned. 

“Call me even if you don’t need anything.” Seto held Ryou’s face.

Ryou blushed. “Okay. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” Seto kissed him and marched out of the dining room. 

“He said it out loud. I’m going to choke on my omelette.” Bakura watched Seto run out the door. 

“He says it out loud all the time.” Ryou grinned, still blushing. “I never get tired of hearing it though.” 

“I need to leave as well. I have a lot of work to do today. I’ll see you at supper, Ryou.” Malik stood. 

“Not lunch?” 

“Not today. I promised Isis I would Skype call her for longer than twenty minutes.” 

“I see. We’re going to visit Mokuba and his family this weekend.” Ryou pointed his spoon at Bakura. “Do not wreck the entire mansion while we’re gone.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep him in line for you.” Malik tangled his fingers in the lose knot of hair on top of Bakura’s head and gave it a playful tug. Bakura held his breath to keep from moaning, and waited until Malik left the room before exhaling. 

“So, you found the elevator in Malik’s room, huh?” Ryou’s eyebrows disappeared into the fringe of white hair as he gave Bakura a knowing look. 

“I don’t know what to do.” The words left Bakura’s mouth before he’d decided to speak at all. He smacked his palm against his forehead wishing he’d said anything else. 

“What’s wrong? Malik looked happy this morning. He even smiled when I mentioned your name—and he smiled more when he saw you walk into the room.” 

“What’s the difference…” Bakura set his fork down, breakfast half-eaten, but his stomach was tied into a bow. “Between friends and…anything else. Fuck. I don’t know where the line is.” 

“I’m not sure it’s a clean cut line, but Malik’s never smiled like that when he saw me walk into a room, if that’s any help.” 

“But what do I _do_.” Bakura clenched his hands into fists. 

“How do you feel about him?”

“Like I’m going to throw up.” 

“Well that’s a good sign,” Ryou said. 

“I’m serious,” Bakura snapped. 

“So am I.” Ryou stood and beckoned Bakura to follow him. 

Bakura didn’t want to eat, so he finished his juice and followed Ryou into the game room. They went back to the bookshelf, and Bakura opened his mouth to ask Ryou where the secret passageway was that led away from his emotions, but before the joke left his tongue, Ryou shoved half a dozen paperbacks into his arms. 

“What’s this nonsense? I don’t read this trash.” 

“Malik does. Well, he did. When we were younger he used to beg me to send him every erotic or romantic male-male manga I could get my hands on. This was his favorite. He loved it so much that after marrying Seto, I actually bought the rights for it to have it translated in Arabic so Malik could have a copy in his own language. I think you should read them.”

“Why?”

“You wanted to know what to do. Maybe these will give you ideas.” 

Bakura flipped through one of the books, grimacing. “They’re holding hands. This is asinine.” 

“So you don’t want to hold Malik’s hand?” Ryou asked. 

Bakura imagined what Malik’s hand would feel like, manicured nails teasing lightly across Bakura’s knuckles. 

“Bakura?”

“Huh?” Bakura blinked back to the moment. 

“You don’t have to read them. I just thought it would help. Of course, the best thing to do would be to talk to Malik directly—”

“Books are good, thanks Ryou.” Bakura muttered as he rushed to his room and crawled under his bed to hide the manga. He was going to need another bed if his stash grew any larger.

Bakura grabbed a flashlight he’d stolen from a utility room and flipped through the first comic. He needed to meet Malik soon for his magic lesson, but Bakura figured he had enough time to skim the first book of the series. The title _Thread of Fate_ , scrawled across the first page in fancy cursive. The series was about a world where everyone knew who their soulmate was because of a shimmering thread extending from their left palm. Everyone except the protagonist who’s string had been cut by a monster when he was a child. Bakura snorted at the premise, continued to read nonetheless. Broken threads weren’t uncommon, which was a problem, because it meant finding another person with a cut string could be their perfect match—or could simply be another unlucky person. 

Halfway through the book, the protagonist met an annoying prick who wouldn’t stop arguing with him. They both had broken strings, but both insisted that they couldn’t be a match because they hated each other. Bakura rolled his eyes, understanding why Ryou had shoved the books at him. When the same monster who broke their thread, attacked them again, they fought together, and ended up kissing on the last page. 

“Fucking garbage.” Bakura muttered as he tucked the book with the others and crawled out from his hiding space to go find Malik. 

His face burned as he thought about the way the character’s lips brushed against each other at the end. Stupid. Stupid. So stupid, and Malik was stupid for reading that crap. Dammit, Ryou at least could have handed him something interesting, something with fighting, blood, and sex, not a fucking shonen ai sewage that Anzu or Serenity probably recommended when Ryou was still in high school. 

He knocked on Malik’s door and the door swung open. Malik held his slip of a phone and chatted in Egyptian Arabic. Bakura saw a floating screen with Baldy’s image floating on it. Bakura laughed. 

“He looks exactly the same. Does he even have wrinkles?” 

“Shhh.” Malik waived Bakura toward the bed as he continued his conversation. 

Bakura tried to pick out bits of their conversation. He knew a little Egyptian Arabic from Ryou’s trip that led to his claiming the Ring, but all Bakura could make out was random words and a sentence about the weather. Malik’s pitch and pace picked up. Bakura stared at him blinking and swore Malik was blushing as he argued with his brother. A moment later he said goodbye and slipped the device back into his pocket. 

“What was that all about?”

“Nothing,” Malik half-shouted, crossing his arms over his chest. Then, he looked like he changed his mind, voice going back to normal. “I was asking him if he knew any other magic we could use. He’s been cataloging some of the older stuff. It was possible he found something useful.” 

“Any luck?”

“No.” Malik sighed. “Plenty of spells to protect people from disease and spirits, but nothing to restore fading ka.” 

“What about Yugi?” He was loathe to ask the question, but would take advantage of his former enemy’s vessel if that meant saving Ryou. 

“No. He would have shared with us right away if it meant saving Ryou. It was only ever you he had a problem with.” 

“Flattered.” 

“Um…” Malik tugged at his earring, Bakura was rather sure Malik didn’t realize he was fidgeting. 

“Do you have a guess?” Bakura smirked, stomach hitching when he remembered their game the night before. 

“Yes. I—” Malik looked around. “It’s probably easier to show you instead of trying to describe it.” 

Bakura’s heart sped up as Malik rummaged through his drawer and pulled out a purple version of the same wand. Visions of Malik spread out on the bed with the toy inside him assaulted Bakura’s imagination. He fanned his face to cool it. Malik laughed, crows feet wrinkling around his eyes. He sat pressed next to Bakura on the bed and fiddled with the buttons on the wand. It hummed in his hand, three long bursts and then an even longer hold. Bakura’s cock twitched to life at the sound, eager for a repeat of the night before. 

“By the color of your face I can tell I got it right.” Malik turned off the wand and shoved it back in the drawer. He leaned against the dresser, tracing the bronze handle. “You didn’t have to leave last night.” 

“I wanted to play the game.” Bakura felt his heartbeat all the way up his throat, and he hoped Malik somehow _didn’t_ feel it too. 

“We played. I won. What’s my prize?” Malik lidded his eyes. 

“Sit on the floor,” Bakura said. 

Malik knelt in front of him, leaning into Bakura’s personal space. Bakura drew closer. He knew what Malik wanted, but his nerves broke at the last second. Jerking away, Bakura made a circle gesture with his finger. 

“Turn around. Face the dresser.” 

Malik frowned, but obeyed, sitting cross-legged with his back to Bakura. With shaking hands, Bakura reached out and kneaded Malik’s shoulders. 

“Good choice,” Malik moaned. 

“I thought you would like it.” 

“We could play again sometime.” 

“How about tonight?” Bakura looked away despite the fact Malik wasn’t looking at him. 

“I’ll chose the rhythm and you guess this time.” 

“What do I get if I win?”

“Another toy,” Malik said. 

“You were supposed to hand me a chest full.” 

“The chest is on order. I’m having it custom made, which means your toys are locked up in my closet unless I feel generous enough to hand a few extra out to you.” 

“There you go with the control again.” Bakura pinched Malik’s shoulders before massaging them again. “But you did buy them all, so sounds fair.” 

“Would you get that spot on the right? You know the one.” 

Bakura did. His own back throbbed on the right lower back. He stared at Malik’s black, sleeveless hoodie. “It won’t bother you?” 

“Leave the shirt on. I haven't taken my shirt off in front of anyone since that day,” Malik said. 

“Tell me if this works.” Bakura nudged Malik forward so he could slip onto the floor behind him. 

He dipped his hands beneath Malik’s shirt, keeping the material covering the skin, and used his thumbs to circle the area that throbbed.

“Bakura,” Malik’s voice dropped to a coarse growl. 

A rush of adrenaline and longing flooded through Bakura. He pressed his forehead against the back of Malik’s head and dug into the spot, working out the knot of muscle. Malik’s fingers curled into the rug below them. Bakura didn’t stop until his cock grew hard enough to make sitting on the floor uncomfortable. He crawled onto the bed, sitting cross legged and resting his elbow on his knees to uselessly hide the erection that Malik could _feel_. 

“We should get started.” 

“Hmmm… magic. Yes.” Malik shook head head and went to a writing desk. He pulled out a binder thick with parchment. 

“The originals are in a museum. These are copies, but they work.”

“That’s all that matters.” 

Malik sat beside Bakura and opened up to the first page.

“I can’t read these,” Bakura said. 

“Then the first thing to learn will be the alphabet.” 

“When do I get to learn Expelliarmus?” 

“You fucking nerd. Those movies are so old.” Malik bumped him with his shoulder. 

“You’re old.” Bakura snorted. 

“But I still look hot as fuck.”

“I can’t argue,” Bakura said. 

“You can practice the alphabet on your own. I’ll make you a study guide. I have something more fun to practice right now.” Malik held up his hand.

It reminded Bakura of their co-player game. They had to touch palms to connect. Bakura held out his hand. Malik’s warmth soaked into his skin, and a light glowed between them. 

“You can already summon your ka, so this should be easy. Just move with me and keep the light going.” 

“Is this how you learned?”

“Yeah. It’s good for controlling your heka. It’s like a game, but later when you’re leaning proper spells the basics come in handy.” 

“ _Handy_.” Bakura chuckled as they moved their palms together in circles. 

“Let’s double fist this.” Malik held up his other hand. 

“Sounds kinky. I like it.” Bakura pressed his other palm to Malik’s, moving how Malik moved, helping Malik keep the energy flowing between them. “I bet we could turn this into a dance.” 

“Would you actually dance?” Malik laughed, disbelief clear in his voice. 

“I’ll fucking dress up like a clown and get shot out of a cannon if it means saving Ryou.” 

Malik stood, careful to keep their connection. Bakura mirrored them until they stood face to face. Malik pressed his mouth through Bakura's hair and close to his ear. 

“I like you like this.” 

“Foolish?” 

“Fighting to save something instead of destroy it,” Malik whispered. “You’ve been wasting your potential for three thousand years.” 

“I don’t know how to dance,” Bakura said. 

“Here.” Malik slid his left hand to Bakura’s hip. 

On instinct, Bakura pressed his palm against Malik’s back, needing to keep their bodies connected to keep the spell going. 

“This okay?” He asked. He didn’t feel any distress from Malik at the touch, but wanted verbal confirmation. 

Malik grunted, stepping closer and swaying. Bakura rested his chin on Malik’s shoulder, a faint glow shimmering anywhere their bodies touched. 

“We can do better than this,” Bakura murmured, sleepy and hypnotized as he swayed in Malik’s arms. 

“Never practiced like this. What did you have in mind?”

“First of all, music.” Bakura stole Malik’s cell phone. “What’s your favorite song?” 

“Play: _Djin_ by Mashrou’ Leila.” 

The phone responded to Malik’s verbal command. The beat trembled through the air. Bakura soaked in the sound, deciding what to do next. He held both of Malik’s hands, but stepped away so Malik could watch. 

“Next, let’s light up our steps.” Bakura focused his heka and the bottoms of their feet glowed as well as their hands. He didn’t know what he was doing, not really. He was going off instinct, using the music to channel the energy inside him much like when he summoned and controlled Diabound with his will. “And a lingering trail.” 

Bakura dragged his toe along the carpet to demonstrate. The glow lingered, slowly fading and shimmering before evaporating into the air. Malik’s face lit up with delight. He watched Bakura move for a moment before copying him.

“And finally—color.” 

Bakura closed his eyes. Thinking in the same way he thought about hacking into Kaiba’s VR game. Malik’s gasp informed Bakura it worked. He opened his eyes and their movements shifted down the spectrum from red to violet. Bakura kept the indigos, purples, and red violets a second longer than the other colors, knowing that range was Malik’s favorite. Royal colors for his former partner named to be a king. 

Malik spun Bakura. He allowed the light to kick up around him like sparks, rainbows raining down from his steps. Both their hands joined and they moved together, creating light and color. The song faded and another one queued up. Sweat damped the back of Bakura’s neck as he moved in Malik’s arms. 

“Your hair,” Malik gasped. “You’re gorgeous.” 

A huff of laughter escaped Bakura. Malik cupped his face, easing them together. Bakura’s eyes fluttered, half closing. Colors seeped through the air like mist hitting the light of the sun. Their breath ghosted over each other’s faces, but the music broke into a shrill ring that had them jumping away from each other. 

“Dammit, Isis. I said I’d call after lunch. Fuck!” 

Bakura laughed. He dipped forward, fully intending to steal a kiss anyway, but his body froze. Froze so hard that he tripped and crashed against Malik’s chest. Malik caught him, laughing as he righted him back to his feet. 

“Godsdammit, I can’t walk around you,” Bakura grumbled. 

“Did it hurt when you fell? From heaven?” Malik snickered. 

“That was so cheesy I’m going to go and find a bag of chips. Have fun with Isis.” Bakura flipped off the trilling phone before grabbing Malik’s spells and running off. 

“Bakura, you can’t read those,” Malik called. 

Bakura shrugged and ignored him. He pressed the tile and took the elevator down to the first floor, and then grabbed two bags of chips from the kitchen before going to the game room where he knew Ryou would be curled up beneath several quilts and napping. 

“Hey,” Ryou murmured with lids drooping with sleep. 

“Snack time.” 

“Not hungry.” Ryou shook his head no. 

“We didn’t finish breakfast.” 

“What are you holding?” 

“Chips. For you.” Bakura handed a bag of spicy chips to Ryou. 

“The book.” 

“Spells. Also for you. I can’t read them. Malik was going to show me, but that busybody sister of his interrupted us.” 

“For a moment, I thought I saw a prism of light flash through the air.” Ryou’s eyes opened enough that he could look around the room. “It was so beautiful that my eyes teared up.” 

“Was it? I hardly noticed.”

Because he’d been too lost in Malik’s arms to notice how beautiful anything else was. 

“What were you doing?” 

“Learning to control my heka.” 

“You should only be able to create the ROYGBIV wavelengths that are part of white light. But I saw lavender, and periwinkle, and plum—” 

“No different than console commands in a video game,” Bakura said. 

“ _You fucking hacked the fabric of magic?_ ” 

“Bitch, I might have.” Bakura flicked the chips in Ryou’s hands. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m eating them.” Ryou shoved three chips in his mouth. 

“I need you to write down a key for the heirectic text in these spells.” Bakura set the book beside Ryou and dug around for pen and paper. “So I can read them and see what I can do with them.” 

“I will do this under one condition.” Ryou folded his hands in his lap. 

“Chips. Eat. I’ll shove them down your throat.” 

“You can’t blame yourself if you fail,” Ryou said. 

“Sure. I won’t blame myself, just like you wouldn’t blame yourself if Yugi died and you failed to save him.” Bakura smacked the paper on top of the scroll notebook. 

“Bakura…” Ryou sighed. 

“Look.” Bakura crouched in front of Ryou so they could stare at eye level. “I’m here. For the first time in my long, fucked-up life, I’m trying to save someone instead of kill them, so let me be.”

“Not the first time. You saved Rishid in Battle City, and you tried to save Malik—”

“Tried isn’t good enough.” Bakura clenched his hands. “I failed, like I fail everything else, but you know what? That doesn’t stop me _now_ from playing this like I’m going to fucking win.” 

“It’s statistically bound to happen sooner or later.” Ryou forced a weak smile on his face. “I’ll write the key for you.” 

“After we finish our chips.” Bakura dug into his bag. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I'll just post on Fridays b/c I keep having to post early.
> 
> This week: John's bday is Friday-- entire weekend is booked.
> 
> Me: *yeets chapter to y'all on a Thursday and sashays away to try and bake a sugar-free lemon birthday cake*

Bakura studied until the letters blurred his vision. A tension headache stabbed behind his eyes, and Bakura figured he should stop before Malik found him and bitched about the pain. He crawled into his den, buried himself beneath his blanket, and let his mind drift. When he woke, he peeked his head out from under the bed to check the time. It was 1pm. He’d missed lunch, so he decided to break into a box of pocky and read another one of the manga Ryou gave him. 

Flipping onto his belly, Bakura examined the cover. It had the two main characters on opposite sides with their fate threads tied together. He snorted, denying the heat pooling below his belly. The story jumped from the ending of the last issue. They argued about who kissed who, both clearly flustered. Eventually the reckless love interest grabbed the other’s hand and held it. They _humphed_ and looked away from each other, fingers remaining locked. Bakura bit his lower lip as he watched their fumbling relationship build until the protagonist finally confessed his feelings, grabbing his partner and kissing him in the rain. Bakura’s chest ached as he scanned each page beneath the yellow flashlight beam. His brain inserted Malik in place of the protagonist, and Bakura’s breathing grew shallow as he daydreamed. 

He told himself it was stupid. He told himself he hated it as he shifted to his back so he could grab the next volume and keep reading. The sound of the door creaking froze Bakura’s movements. He held his breath. 

“Bakura?” Malik’s voice echoed through the room. 

His instinct was to stay still and wait for Malik to leave. He didn’t want anyone to know where he slept. Bakura covered his face with his hands. For the gods’ sake, it was Malik. How broken was he that he slept hidden as if he were still a vulnerable little Thief Prince learning how to rob tombs and hide from guards and other criminals?

“Down here.” Bakura exhaled. 

“Bakura?” Malik appeared beside him. “Why are you _under_ the bed.” 

“To be safe,” Bakura muttered. 

“Safe? Have you…have you been sleeping down here the whole time?” 

Bakura nodded. 

“Bakura.” Malik squirmed beside him, wincing. 

“Malik, you don’t want to be under the bed. It’s dark down here.”

“It’s okay. For a little while I’ll be fine.”

Bakura sighed and passed his flashlight over. 

“Heh, thanks. Um, so…” 

“Look, last time I was alive—I know the mansion isn’t Egypt—but habit’s a bitch, all right?” 

“Yeah. I sleep with the lamp on. I’m not going to knock you for this.” He aimed the flashlight to the underside of the boxspring. “So… thief’s den, huh?” 

“Pretty much.” 

“It’s kinda cool.” 

“Don’t fucking patronize me.” 

“I wasn’t. I like how you’ve hoarded all your stuff in reach. Is that a box of Hello Panda?” Malik angled the flashlight toward Bakura’s snack area. 

“Want some?” 

“Nah.” 

“How’d you find me?” 

“I went to the room we thought was yours, but when you weren’t there I looked around and found the door connecting to this one and thought I might get lucky and find you here.” 

“Yeah.” Bakura laughed at himself. 

“Keep your toy here, too?” Malik grinned. 

“Until you give me a chest. Figured the maids won’t stumble upon it down here.” 

“Were you thinking about using it? Is that why you were down here?” Malik gave him a wicked glance. Shadows danced over his face, but the light caught his irises and they gleamed. 

“What? No!” Bakura tossed his hands up, smacking them against a support plank. 

“Careful,” Malik scolded, rubbing his own knuckles. 

“I don’t have a one track mind.” Bakura grabbed Malik’s hands and rubbed the throb out of them, though he should have done it to his own knuckles instead. 

“Could have fooled me.” 

“Vengeance _and_ RPGs. Two track.” 

“But I could have sworn…your heart was racing, and I was giddy. The closer I got to your room, the more excited—what’s wrong? You’re nervous.” 

“Nothing, and I’m not.” Bakura dropped Malik’s hands and shifted a centimeter away. 

“Magical connection, Bakura. Don’t lie to me.” 

“I wasn’t jerking off.” 

“Why are you snapping at me? I don’t care if you do. I thought we established that?” 

With a frustrated growl, Bakura yanked the book he’d finished from his stash and dropped it on top of Malik. Malik adjusted his flashlight beam and read the title. He blinked, confused. 

“I remember this… it was sweet.”

“Ryou said it was your favorite.”

“Yeah… when I was younger I kept thinking ‘maybe I haven’t found the right person yet’ so I guess this book appealed to me. I identified with the main character. Like everyone had this magical string leading them to their soulmate, but I had a broken thread.” 

Bakura stared at his own palm, as if he could see the severed link growing out from his skin. 

“This is only the second book,” Malik said.

“I only started them today.” 

“They don’t have sex until the fourth book.” 

“So what? Should I skip ahead?” Bakura looked over to Malik. 

“No, it’s…” Malik flipped through the pages. “This is all the cute shit.” 

“Your point?” Bakura growled. 

“ _This_ is what had you so flustered? The romance?” 

“I don’t need your ridicule. I already feel like a jackass for reading this high school bullshit—and it’s your fault because I’m only reading it because Ryou said you liked it—and another thing—”

Malik grabbed the collar of Bakura’s shirt and yanked them together. Their lips only half lined up because of the cramped space limiting the angle of their heads. They fought their way through a few crooked kisses before Malik pulled away. Bakura stared at him, chest pounding as hard as it did during an orgasm. 

“I’m so confused.” Malik laughed, a lost look on his face. “I’ve always had an active libido, but I’d wince at the thought of touching another person. I guess there’s a name for it? One day Isis was teasing me about getting married, and my oldest niece told her I was ace/aro and it was never going to happen. Isis just blinked at her like she was making up words, but I laughed my ass off because I was relieved it was common enough to define with a label. _Heh_ , now I need to ask her what it’s called when you’re only interested in asshole former tomb robbers who used to be your partner in crime.” 

“Or asshole former tomb keepers who used to be your partner in crime, because apparently that’s the only type of person I’m into.” Bakura nudged Malik’s shoulder. 

“And I don’t know why, but… knowing the thought of kissing me and holding my hand made you so flustered…” Malik closed his eyes, swallowing. “Gods, I want to rip your fucking clothes off.” 

Bakura lay there, sucking in breath. The world spun away as his imagination ran wild, and his cock swelled into a fat pillar. 

“Maybe this conversation would be better on top of the bed,” Bakura said. 

Without further words they scrambled from Bakura’s hiding spot and flung themselves on top of the mattress. Bakura held Malik’s waist, and Malik tangled his fingers into Bakura’s hair. They leaned together but kept flinching awaybefore they finally surrendered to their emotions and their lips meant. 

“This is nerve wracking.” Malik chuckled.

“Stop thinking and dive in,” Bakura said the words to himself more than Malik.

“Maybe, if I turn like…” 

Malik tilted his face, making sure their noses didn't clash as they kissed. At first each kiss was a light wisp of pressure against their lips. Then Malik grabbed Bakura's face and deepened their kisses, slipping his tongue inside Bakura's mouth as well.

A damn crumbled inside of them. Each pass of their lips was frantic. Their tongues licked at each other without grace, wetting their lips to the point that Bakura had to pull away and wipe his mouth before Malik pulled him back in for another round. He moaned, tugging their bodies close and allowing himself to be swept away in the moment. 

“I was disappointed when you ran off last night,” Malik moaned as they struggled to figure out kissing and breathing at the same time. 

“Got excited. Tripped backward. Didn’t want you to notice, so I hit the down button to look like I jumped in there on purpose.” 

“For real?” Malik’s laughter broke their kisses. 

“If you wanted me to stay, you should have been direct.” 

“You’re right.” Malik shoved Bakura against the mattress, pinning his wrists over his head. “You do better when I give you orders.” 

“As if.” Bakura stared at Malik, arching beneath him. 

“By the way,” Malik’s voice grew sultry. He pinched Bakura’s nipple. “What exactly were you doing last night? I can’t replicate it.”

Bakura chuckled. He pulled a hand free so he could twist Malik’s nipple through his shirt. Malik’s mouth dropped and his eyes lost all focus. Bakura switched to his other nipple and dropped his hand to Malik’s pants. 

“Malik—”

“Touch me. Holy fuck, right now.” Malik fought with Bakura’s zipper as Bakura loosened Malik’s. 

They pushed their pants to their knees, fumbling for each other’s cocks and sucking on their lower lips. Malik was hard and thick in Bakura’s hand. Much thicker than himself. Bakura tormented Malik’s cockhead, rubbing and circling with his thumb before squeezing everything. He could feel his hand on Malik’s cock via their connection even as he felt Malik’s hand on his own. They tugged each other’s shafts, writhing together, their kisses sloppier than before, but they were hungry for it, desperate for it, and every accidental scrape of teeth or awkward tug on their dicks excited them. 

“Malik,” Bakura moaned, his balls tight and his nerves searing. 

“Fuck, Bakura, fuck. Slow down. I want this to last longer.” 

“Can’t. Can’t.” 

Malik pinned him down again, gripping both wrists with a single hand. He held their cocks together with the other, slowing down his strokes to hold them back from the edge. 

“Dammit Malik.” 

“Hmmm… but it’s so good.” Malik bit Bakura’s neck. 

“Oh Min!” Bakura finished kicking off his pants so he could wrap a leg around Malik. He bucked, increasing the friction between them. 

Malik slowed his hips, torturing them both, and groaning as he savored it. His hair fell in a cascade of gold. His kiss-swollen lips and dilated eyes mesmerized Bakura. He went insane beneath Malik, _needing, needing, needing._

“Please, please, Min, please. Malik, please,” he openly begged, jerking his hips with each please. 

“Gods, Bakura.” Malik let go so he could brace himself. 

Bakura grabbed Malik’s cock, stroking fast and sure. He _needed_ Malik’s cock in his hand—hot, hard, and thick. Malik stroked faster as well. They screamed into each other’s mouths, echoing moan for moan. Bakura focused his heka into his hand, same as when they’d danced. They shimmered where they touched. Malik’s moans lowered to rough, gravelly growls, primal and wanton. He yanked at Bakura’s hair, sending an extra stab of excitement to Bakura’s cock. 

“ _Ah! Ahh! Ahhh! Coming!_ ” Bakura shrieked as Malik growled through his own orgasm. 

They hitched, riding out the pleasure. The moment he was done, Bakura clung to Malik. His ears rang, and his fingers and toes tingled. Their bodies trembled as they wound down from what was the hardest orgasm of Bakura’s life. 

“Holy shit,” Malik whispered, arms locked around Bakura. 

“You can say that again.” 

“If I’d known that binding my ka to yours was going to have _this_ neat little bonus effect, I would have wrestled that spell out of Yugi’s hands the day he found it.” 

“Let’s egg the game shop to teach him a lesson about sharing.” 

“Maybe.” 

“Admit it. It's an eggcellent idea.”

“You dork.” Malik kissed the crown of Bakura’s head. 

Bakura had seen Seto do the same to Ryou a thousand times, but when Malik did it, it was like flicking a light switch inside Bakura’s chest. Malik sensed the reaction, and showered Bakura’s head with three extra kisses. 

“I was wondering if you wanted to play our game until dinner? Figured you needed a break from studying.”

“Gods, half a minute more. I don’t think I can move yet.” Bakura exhaled a deep breath. 

“I know exactly how you feel. Don’t worry.” Malik kissed Bakura’s head again. “I’ll entertain myself somehow until we’re ready to clean up and go play.” 

He planted kisses on Bakura's face until they were both giggling and breathless. 

***

Thanks to the virtual technology, Bakura saw drops of sweat fling from Malik's arms as his sword sliced into the Griffin’s fur. 

“We almost have him!” Malik shouted.

Bakura spun his staff, casting buffs and a regenerative spell to close Malik's minor cuts and scratches. He used his magic shield and blocked the Griffin’s attack while Malik charged up a level three dance. The Griffin's feathers puffed in irritation. He screeched and Bakura's barriers shattered.

“Malik, ether!” 

Malik reached to his belt and tossed a green bottle to Bakura. He chugged it, and sprung new shields around them. The Griffin spread his wings. They spanned the length of the entire clearing. Wind surrounded them as he flapped and rose into the air for his power attack.

“No you don't!” Malik lifted himself into the air. Sunlight gleamed off his amber feathers and the steel of his blades. The Griffin attacked, Malik looped beneath him, swung behind him, and circled around to the Griffin's front. Malik’s right sword plunged into the lion-chest of the beast. Blood sprayed over the ground, staining the fallen leaves on the forest floor with scarlet freckles.

“Dammit! I missed his second heart!”

The Griffin crashed to the ground. Panicked, he swiped his talons at Bakura, smashing through the shield and tearing open his chest. Bakura screamed as fire flooded his torso. Vision blurry from pain, Bakura darted forward and rammed the end of his staff on the other side of the Griffin's chest, puncturing his second heart.

“Got 'im.” Bakura dropped to his knees.

“Bakura!”

Malik scooped Bakura up in his arms, dumping a blue health potion over the wounds. Bubbles frothed around the gashes, partially filling in the lacerations.

“I got this.” Bakura pressed a hand to his chest. Light shimmered and the cuts mended themselves.

“You are so reckless in battle,” Malik lectured.

“I'm used to dodging. This damn class doesn't have enough dexterity.” 

“Be more careful. If something happened to you—” Malik held Bakura's checks, gaze locked on Bakura's face. Bakura reached up and held Malik's hand.

“It's a game. I'm fine.” 

“But I know the injuries hurt.” 

“That's why I refused to let you get hit.” Bakura squeezed Malik's hand.

“You're stupid.” Malik pressed their foreheads together, his voice soft and affectionate.

“I think we leveled up again. That's level four. My shields will get a boost.”

“We’d better quit or we'll be late for dinner.”

Bakura gave the command to save and quit. Reality cut into his vision. The late-day sun gilded the glass around the sunroom. Malik's expression lit up when he saw the light surrounding them. 

It gave Bakura an idea. Using the basic light trick Malik had taught him, he spread the light across the floor, creating a lilac path leading them to dinner.

“Show off.” Malik laughed as he chased the light down the hallway. Bakura followed behind him, grinning. 

“Nice to see you learned some circus tricks,” Kaiba grumbled as they entered the dining room.

“He can't practice proper spells until he learns the basics,” Malik defended.

“He's well past the basics,” Ryou said. “Bakura, your intuition with magic is astounding. I'm sincerely jealous.” 

“It's only light on the floor. Like Kaiba said, a circus trick.” Bakura shook his head. 

“That's like saying superposition is a lovely little circus trick quantum computers can do. In fact, that's an accurate metaphor. If we consider things to be either real, or not real—representing those two states as 1’s and 0’s—magic would be the act of flipping 0’s to 1’s. Bakura isn’t in our world. We cast the right spell, thereby flipping the right switch, and now Bakura is here. Switch the 0 to a 1 and now he's real. However, I believe Bakura could blend the two.” 

“Sweet. I get to be a ghost and walk through walls cuz I'm only half here.” Bakura tore into one of the pork chops in front of him.

“I’m not saying you can make yourself half real. I’m saying you can make probabilities that can only be expressed by a simultaneous 1 and 0—both existing at once.”

“I wasn’t serious, Ryou.” 

“But I am. Metaphor aside, I don't think you need spells to do magic. You should keep playing. Do whatever you want and see what happens.” 

“Don't tell him to do whatever he wants. Bakura doesn't need free reign over the refrigerator, let alone the forces of creation.” Malik shook his head while sipping his _Molokheya_. 

“I solemnly swear I'll be up to no good.” Bakura winked.

“Ryou,” Kaiba spoke in a low voice. “Aren't you worried what he'll do with that sort of power?” 

Bakura slammed both hands on top of the white pressed tablecloth. “Gonna save your damn husband, _that's_ what I'm gonna do.” 

“Then let’s make a deal.” Kaiba's gaze was level. “If you succeed, I’ll give you—” 

“Seto. No.” Ryou stood. “We agreed not to mention it.”

“Mention what?” Bakura asked.

“Your little pet is a self-serving bastard, so if I can give him the motivation he needs to save you—” 

“Trust him to do it for the _right reasons_ , Seto. Because otherwise—I don't want to be saved.” 

“I am right fucking here, so don't talk about me like I'm not in the room.” Bakura smacked the table again.

“I'm sorry.” Ryou turned to him. “Bakura, I have faith in you. I don't know if you and Malik will find a way to keep me alive or not, but I believe you’re trying because we're friends, not because you want a bribe.”

“I'm doing it anyway, so if you want to bribe me as well, I won't say no.” Bakura pointed a finger. “Shower me in bribes.” 

“Shut up and eat your pork chops, Bakura.” Malik shook his head.

“Do you know what they're talking about?” Bakura asked.

“I think I do, although I've only seen pictures of it.” 

“Well? Is someone going to tell me what the hell we're talking about?” 

“Later. It's a bad subject. For everyone.” Malik shook his head. 

“These secrets are bullshit.” Bakura shook his head. “Last time you weren’t honest with me, I found out Ryou was dying. What are you hiding now?” 

Kaiba snorted while Malik and Ryou stared at their soup. The meal went on in silence. Bakura let it drop for the time being. He finished his food early and tugged at Malik's shirt.

“C’mon. Let's go pick a game to play and get it set up for Ryou.” 

“You want to separate me to grill me for information,” Malik said. 

“Wouldn't have to if my _friends_ weren't so prone to keeping secrets.” 

“It's all right, Malik. Go ahead,” Ryou said.

“Shouldn't _you_ tell him?” 

“Thinking about it makes me tired.” Ryou sat in his chair, a brittle porcelain doll one fall away from shattering. “I don't have the energy to fight over Shadi tonight.” 

“That asshole again. And people say _I'm_ like a cockroach. I'm not half as bad as _that guy_.” Bakura frowned.

“You heard Ryou. He's not in the mood. We'll talk on our way to the game room.” Malik stood and Bakura followed him into the hall. Malik waited a moment before speaking. “It's funny to think that you're the one who killed him. He's the reason I blamed the Pharaoh for my father's death all those years ago.” 

“I obviously didn't do a very good job killing him if you spoke with him.” 

“He was dead when I met him… Bakura, how many Items are there?” 

“You know the answer.” 

“Could there be more? Than the original ones?” 

“No.”

“What makes you so sure?” 

“Uuuuh, I was fucking there the night they were created? Do you think you can just flip the slab over and see extra slots for new Items?” 

“So you've never seen a Cube?” 

“A Cube? The Millennium Cube? Could you not have thought of something better? Something Egyptian-themed like the other Items? Don’t think up a random shape and call it an Item.” 

“It’s real, and Seto has it.” 

“If this is a joke—”

“I’m really not the best person. I wasn’t there. It happened their senior year. Someone named Diva appeared, and he had a Cube that he could use to alter reality. He wanted to get vengeance on Ryou for killing Shadi when they were kids?” 

“Oh please, those kids hardly spent any time with that jackass!” Bakura threw his arms up in the air. “They couldn’t have grown _that_ close to him.”

“Apparently they did.” 

“And what do you mean vengeance? What did he do to Ryou?” Bakura glared at Malik, his expression dark. 

“Ryou said he was sent to the Shadow Realm again. He tried looking for you, but Yugi saved him before he could find you.” 

“Didn’t Ryou explain he had nothing to do with it?” 

“Technically, Atem had nothing to do with—”

“All right. All right. I get your point. Dammit.” Bakura leaned back against the hallway wall before they reached the game room. “I fucked up his entire life, didn’t I?” 

“No.” Malik shook his head. “Most of the time since you’ve been gone as been good.”

“Yeah, since I’ve been gone.” Bakura crammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Can’t really say the same about when he had the Ring.” 

“I feel that way about my siblings. All those years Rishid put up with my bullshit, and Isis trying to chase after us.” Malik hugged himself. “I know what you're going through right now.” 

“So Seto has this Cube thing?” 

“Yeah. It’s in his space station—”

“Oh shut the fuck up!”

“What?” Malik blinked. 

“Literal fucking space station?” 

“He has three. This one was his first one. It’s more like a tower that reaches above Earth’s atmosphere.” 

“I bet Seto Kaiba really pisses off the gods.”

“I don’t think he cares.” Malik smiled. 

“In any case, this Cube can change reality, so if I had it, I could bring Atem back. That’s why Seto was going to use it to bribe me, yeah?” 

“I’m not sure that’s exactly how it worked? Diva could change reality, but Yugi said there were a lot of kids, and something about Plana, but if the Pharaoh came back it would disappear and he appeared during their duel to save everyone. It was all pretty confusing. I never asked for more details though. I was happy to miss the drama, honestly. But Seto did fly to Aaru after it was all over and saw Atem using the Cube.” 

“He did _what_?” 

“Seto explained it once. Even without the Plana, the Cube still has enough residual power to compromise the space/time continuum.”

“Baby Horus in a basket, no wonder Ryou didn’t want to talk about this. It sounds ridiculous.” 

“I’m not lying.” 

“You’re too smart to lie about anything this dumb.” Bakura ran his fingers through his hair. 

“Thanks.” Malik seized Bakura’s hand for himself and they finished walking to the game room. 

They chose a computerized game similar to Risk, and had a four player setup ready by the time Ryou and Kaiba entered the room. Ryou sat in his usual chair with a quilt spread over his lap. Seto pulled up another chair beside him. Malik and Bakura fought over the last chair, and in the end, shared it. Bakura scowled, but his body tingled each time Malik shifted or their shoulders brushed together. 

“So… a… Cube.”

“Yes,” Seto said. 

“And I could use it to get to Aaru?”

“With the help of my technology.” 

“And you saw the Pharaoh there?” 

“Yes.” Seto grinned. 

“Let me guess, card game?” 

“What do you think?” Ryou snorted, more sarcastic than usual.

“The important thing is I won,” Seto said. 

“No, the important thing is you made it back alive—which you almost didn’t.” 

“You sound like Mokuba.” 

“You mean I sound like someone who loves you and cares about your wellbeing? Then, yes. I sound exactly like him for those very reasons.” Ryou glance over to Bakura. “It takes both Kaiba Brothers to get to the Cube, so don’t think about stealing it. You need retina scans, 3D imaging, voice confirmation—”

“Don’t challenge me to steal a thing. I don’t have time right now, but if you tell me I _can’t,_ I’ll be forced to prove you wrong.” 

“You’re as impossible as ever. Let’s play. I hate talking about the Cube.” Ryou wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. “And the Shadow Realm is cold. I don't want to think about it.” 

Bakura remembered. It wasn't the sort of cold that killed you. Death from freezing was gentle, in the end, the irresistible urge to sleep. In the Shadows there was never sleep, or rest, only stabbing sheets of cold cutting into one's soul. Bakura shivered. He jerked when Malik's hands rested on top of his own. Their gazes caught.

“Are you two going to go, or stare at each other?” Seto interrupted whatever the moment could have been. 

They each took their turn, circling the game back to Ryou and Kaiba. Malik settled deeper into the chair, pressing their bodies closer together. Bakura's stomach jumped a little. His concentration wavered, but he still managed to cause heavy damage to Kaiba's forces and knock Malik out of the game entirely.

Nonetheless, he couldn't match Ryou at strategy games. While Bakura focused on finishing Seto, Ryou's forces swept up from behind, plowing through Bakura's armies and finishing Seto's forces as well. Seto growled, and blamed Bakura for his loss, but his blue eyes were dark and blown out as he looked at Ryou, and Ryou's sweet smile fooled none of them. Bakura stood, smacking Malik's shoulder.

“Let's go. I'm sure these two want to go to bed.” 

“Goodnight, guys.” Malik waved.

Bakura walked Malik to the secret entrance hiding the elevator shaft. They pressed their noses together, giggling and nuzzling into each other's necks. 

“We should go to bed. We have a lot to work to do between game-testing and magic-studying.” 

Bakura grunted. He lifted his face, and Malik's lips pressed against his. 

“Night,” Bakura muttered between passes of their lips.

“Goodnight, Bakura.” Malik whispered in his ear. “I think it's my turn to choose the pattern and your turn to guess.” 

“You’d better wait until I'm back in my room.” 

“Then you better hurry.” Malik pulled Bakura's bottom lip in a final kiss before heading upstairs. 

Bakura sprinted to his room, leaping and crashing onto his mattress. He hiked his hips in the air, tugging off his pants and kicking them to the floor. Bakura brushed his fingers near his junk, teasing Malik with the phantom touches he knew Malik felt. 

“ _Ah, ah, ah…_ ” Bakura panted as the phantom sensation of Malik’s vibrator filled him. 

Bakura spread his legs, nails grazing along his skin. He bit his bottom lip, head tossing from side to side. The toy pulsed in short bursts. Bakura palmed his cock, trying to drag things out, but already too worked up to have any self-control. 

The vibrations changed—quick-quick-long, quick-quick-long, quick-quick-extra long and then a flutter to finish. 

“Cheater. Dirty fucking cheater,” Bakura grumbled to himself when the rhythm changed. 

Bakura twisted his nipples as a reprimand. Tightness ghosted around Bakura’s dick and he knew Malik was stroking himself. Thinking of Malik with his hand around his shaft destroyed the last of Bakura’s control. He fisted his cock, flicking his wrist enough to strain his wrist muscles. Bakura’s toes curled and he whined as a lingering orgasm lit his nerves. 

Bakura laughed to noone about nothing once he finished, flushed and giddy. After wiping himself off, he stole the blanket from the top of the bed and crawled to his usual spot, twisting himself in both the old and new covers in his hide-a-way and drifting to sleep with Malik floating through his thoughts. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably my most meh chapter (imo) b/c whenever I'm trying to proof read I also skim over the ka battle b/c I want to get back to the relationship development lol

Bakura sucked in a deep breath, stretching as much as he could while cocooned in two blankets beneath the bed. Memories of the night before drifted through his mind and he smiled. Bit by bit Bakura’s eyes opened. A shaft of light his his side from sunlight cutting onto the floor from the window. A pair of house slippers appeared; Malik’s face followed. 

“Morning,” Bakura murmured. 

“Don’t you get stiff down here?”

“I was stiff last night, but you helped take care of that.” Bakura glided his fingertip along the top of Malik’s hand. 

“Do you have a guess?”

“The rapid pulsing at first. Then your sneaky ass cheated a switched to a combo ending in a flutter.” 

“This game is too easy.” Malik back away from the bed so Bakura could crawl out. 

“Then we need a new game.” Bakura rubbed his lower back with a slight groan. 

“That’s what you get for sleeping on the floor.” Malik shook his head, arms crossed. 

Bakura rolled his eyes. He strolled into the next room and used the bathroom. Malik stood behind him, leaning against the doorway. 

“You gonna just watch me piss?” 

Malik shrugged. 

“I have to take a shit next, so…”

“Feel free.”

“You were warned.” Bakura shook himself dry and turned around, crouching over the toilet. 

“So what do you want to do first? Game or magic?” 

“First, I want to take a shit.”

“And then?”

“Brush my teeth.” 

“Cute.” Malik rolled his eyes. 

“Magic until lunch. Gaming until dinner.” 

“Sounds good.” Malik disappeared from the doorway, but Bakura could see him sitting on the bed just outside of the bathroom playing on his phone. 

“I’m not getting up any time soon,” Bakura said. 

“How long does it take to use the toilet?” Malik called into the bathroom, his voice irritated. 

“Listen… I’m a simple man. I like sitting on the toilet.” 

Bakura could hear Malik muttering in Arabic. He chuckled and continued about his business. His mind wandered to the characters he’d studied the previous day, and different things he could try without scrolls. Malik appeared in the doorway again. 

“Can I help you?”

“I got bored. Harassing you is more fun.” 

“Do you not have a job?” Bakura asked, looking up at Malik. 

“Besides babysitting you?”

“Most people couldn’t go to another country for half a year.” 

“ _Technically_ , head of the tombkeepers is my job. There’s a few… responsibilities expected of my clan from the Egyptian government per a deal Isis negotiated. Mostly archiving and restoring ancient texts. I get a small stipend for it. Although I have plenty of money from some of my old hedge operations I kept even after…” Malik cleared his throat. “Reforming. I was eager to help Isis, at first, to prove I was ‘really better,’ but you know it wasn’t long before I became miserable. It was like being trapped in the tomb again, only with windows.” 

“So what did you end up doing?” 

“Dumped it on Rishid.” 

“Poor Baldy.” Bakura chuckled. 

“Poor Baldy nothing. He was thrilled. He loves dry academia. I don’t understand it. Afterward, I was a bit of a professional student throughout my twenties. Then Ryou approached me with some of his project ideas and I helped him with that. I guess now I’m retired.” 

“Me too.” 

“Are you now?” Malik raised an eyebrow. “So no more thieving for you?” 

“Maybe a little now and then for fun, but I don’t really need to steal from kings anymore. Unless you’re into that sort of thing.” Bakura smirked. “You can be the loyal tombkeeper and I could break in. If you caught me, I’d be at your mercy.”

“Tempting, but that would involve actually going into the tombs, something I don’t plan on doing unless I absolutely have to.”

“I don’t blame you.” Bakura finished. The toilet flushed itself the moment he stood, and the lid lowered without Bakura touching it. He washed his hands, face, and teeth, dropped his pajamas into the laundry shoot, and searched for an outfit to wear. 

“Wear this.” Malik grabbed a black, button up shirt.

“Why?”

“It’ll look sexy on you.” 

“Will it?” Bakura lidden his gaze. 

“Your toychest will arrive today. Should I have it delivered to this room or the one beside it?” 

“Here’s good.” Bakura slipped into the shirt and a pair of slacks. 

“Mmmm, you do look good in those clothes.” 

Bakura combed his hair with his fingers, sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning back a little. 

“You know… I’m not very experienced with toys. I might need you to teach me how to use a few.” 

“I suppose I am responsible, since I’m the one that picked them all out.” Malik hovered over Bakura, keeping their lips just out of reach. “Want me to sneak in here tonight for a live demonstration?” 

Bakura nodded. Malik brushed their lips together before pulling away. He offered his arm.

“Walk me to breakfast?” 

“Is that why you were hanging around all morning?” 

“Yes.” Malik ran the pad of his thumb up Bakura’s cheek. Bakura was sure that Malik was tracing his blush line, but he pretended he didn’t notice the heat pooling in his face.

Instead he stood, locked his arm with Malik’s, and headed to the dining room. They stepped through the double doors together. Kaiba gave them a dismissive glance, but Ryou’s face beamed. He shot Bakura with his finger.

“Good morning!” Ryou called from across the table. 

“Good morning,” Malik returned, pulling a chair for Bakura. 

“S’up.” Bakura nodded at Ryou before glaring at Malik as he sat. Malik grinned in response. 

Their breakfast conversation was on games. Seto mentioned cancelling the winter tournament. Ryou insisted he continue with it no matter what. They asked if Bakura wanted to play, but he couldn’t answer. Without vengeance to motivate him, he wasn’t sure the game held any luster for him. Unlike Monster World, which was a universe all on its own, Duel Monsters was only a shadow of the battles they had once fought in Egypt. He’d rather spar with Diabound than play a card game. 

“Yo, Kaiba, what about you? Can you summon your ka?” Bakura asked. 

A single nod was the only answer Seto gave. 

“I taught him.” Ryou pushed his half,eaten porridge away from himself. 

Bakura danced a strip of bacon in front of Ryou. Ryou shook his head no, but took it and ate it after another minute of pestering. 

“Then let’s see what you’re worth.” Bakura smirked. 

“Tonight. After supper.” 

“I want to spar. It’s been years,” Ryou said. 

“Ryou.” Seto rest his hand on top of Ryou’s. “Too dangerous.” 

“It might do me some good. Like exercise for my soul.”

“Promise me, if you get dizzy, or feel ill—”

“I promise not to overdo it, but please allow me to play.” 

“I’ll prepare the arena. See you tonight.” Seto kissed Ryou and left the dining room. 

“We’d better go too.” Bakura popped the last of the bacon in his mouth and stood. “More magic lessons today.” 

“I’m going back to sleep.” Ryou yawned. “I should rest up if I’m going to get my ass kicked by Diabound later tonight.” 

Driven by instinct, Bakura reached out, touching Ryou’s shoulder. Had anyone else done it, the gesture would have looked friendly, but Bakura’s body was stiff, and he knew he looked like someone new to companionable gestures. 

_Thank you_ , Ryou mouthed silently, pressing his fingers against Bakura’s knuckles for a moment before pulling away so Bakura could let go. Bakura marched out the dining room, speeding toward Malik’s room without thinking. 

“That was nice,” Malik said.

“I don’t want to think about it.” 

“Don’t want to think about having a friend?”

“No, I don’t.”

“What about me?” Malik shut his bedroom door as soon as they entered. 

Bakura spun around, staring at Malik. He blinked, mouth slack. Malik’s questions made his heart race. With a loud sigh, Bakura collapsed into a chair near the window. 

“You’re different.”

“Because we’re fumbling our way toward becoming proper lovers, or because I’m not dying any time soon?” Malik sat on the bed across from Bakura. 

“Yes,” Bakura answered. 

The gold around Malik’s arms and neck glimmered as sunlight bounced along the mirrors in the room. He took measured steps to Bakura, easing himself gently into Bakura’s lap. Bakura tensed, eyes wide as he waited to see what Malik would do. Moving slow, calculated, Malik wrapped his arms around Bakura, leaned close, and rested his chin on Bakura’s shoulder. 

“I don’t need this.” Bakura shook. “Can’t work on fixing the problem by _sitting_.”

“Don’t you need this? I do.”

Bakura exhaled, sinking into Malik’s hold. He dug his fingers into Malik’s shirt, gripping tightly. Outside the sunlight shone, a sparrow sang from a maple branch, and dragonflies tapped the glass before zipping away. The summer morning was beautiful. It’s what an artist would paint if they wanted to convey a sense of joy and perfection, but Bakura’s stomach twisted with dread. The morning after the massacre of his village had been nearly as beautiful, though less green. 

“I can’t… I can’t,” Bakura whispered into the safety of Malik’s hair. 

“I know,” Malik said. 

“Let me up. I need to study. I need to practice. I need to—” 

Malik cupped Bakura’s face. Bakura looked at Malik, again waiting to see what he’d do. Malik’s expression crumpled. With a sigh, he kissed Bakura’s eyelids and the center of his forehead before standing. 

“Quit being so lazy, Bakura. We don’t have time to sit around. You have an alphabet to learn.” 

“Whatever would I do without your expert management skills.” Bakura didn’t hide the sarcasm in his voice. Malik merely blew him a kiss before grabbing a sheet of paper. 

“Write down what you remember from yesterday. We’ll see what you need to work on today.” 

Bakura scowled at the paper. He scratched symbols along the sheet and shoved the paper back at Malik. 

“Bakura…”

“What?” He wrinkled his brow, peeking over Malik’s shoulder and trying to guess what he’d gotten wrong. 

“You memorized the entire page in half a day of studying?” 

“Did you think I was too stupid to do it?”

“Few people could memorize this in less than a day.” 

“Better have a good memory if you’re going to avoid traps.” Bakura stared out the window. 

“Well, great,” Malik said. “Let’s start putting these together and teach you how to read spells.” 

***

“The two with the highest roll on a six-sided die face off first.” Seto tossed the die at Bakura. “Guests first, of course.” 

Bakura rolled a six, Malik a three, Seto a four, and Ryou a six. 

“Yes!” Bakura high fived Ryou. They laughed as they walked down the the stage in the center of the room. “You sure you feel up to this? You know I’m not going to go easy on you.”

“I would appreciate if you didn’t. I want to prove how I can match you in a fair fight.” 

“Play to win, not tie.” Seto’s jaw tightened. 

“Of course, love.” Ryou blew him a kiss. 

The wrinkles showed more in the bright arena light. Bakura sometimes forgot about them, but Ryou’s smile etched them into his face. They stared at each other for a moment. Ryou’s eyes swept across the arena. 

“This was built for duels. Many duelist have met their fate here thinking they could win quick fame by beating Seto in a one on one match. Because it’s big enough for the holograms and an audience, there’s plenty of room to spar our ka without the public seeing.”

“Leave it to Kaiba to have Thunderdome in his basement instead of a mancave.” Bakura snorted. 

“Are you ready?” Ryou asked. 

“You show me yours—” Bakura gave Ryou a finger gun. 

“His name is Rishi,” Ryou said, summoning his ka. 

The kirin’s scales gleamed like mother of pearl. He reminded Bakura of the plate Ryou had fixed that day in the game room. Rishi’s mane flowed as white and vibrant as Ryou’s. Despite the wrinkles, dark circles under his eyes, and sickly hue of his skin, Ryou’s hair still sparkled the same living white it always had. The horn on the creature’s forehead was curved, like a scimitar of ivory, and his eyes flashed like opals. 

“Not bad.” Bakura nodded. 

He brought out Diabound. His ka hovered behind him, eyeing his competitor. Seto’s voice amplified through the room. 

“When I say begin, you’ll battle until one of you either forfeits, or loses consciousness.” 

“Seto!” Malik scolded. 

“Ryou will not accept any other terms,” Seto said. 

“He’s right! I won’t!” 

“Just be careful. If something happens to you, I’m stuck with Bakura’s awful jokes for the rest of my life, and I’ll have no one to suffer with me.” Malik sighed. 

Bakura blew Malik a facetious kiss. Seto took that moment to shout. 

“Begin!” 

The kirin charged. Diabound disappeared below them in the ground. The trick didn’t deter Ryou. His ka glowed, charging energy for a future attack. Diabound sprung up and grabbed Rishi, but the energy crackled around the kirin’s body and Diabound was blasted back. 

The kirin shot a beam from his horn. Diabound looped around the shot. He lashed out with his tail, but a shield surrounded Rishi and prevented Diabound’s attack from doing any damage. The kirin countered, smacking Diabound with a beam of light. 

“Ha! Nice attack, but you need more power than that to take me down.” Bakura chuckled as their ka battled. 

“I’m not done yet.” Ryou ignored Bakura and kept his eyes on Diabound and Rishi. 

The kirin barraged Diabound with rapid blasts. Diabound dodged most of them, but a few crashed against his skin, leaving wisps of smoke where they struck. Diabound returned fire. Rishi’s shield shattered. Another blast forced Ryou to drop to his knees. 

Out of the corner of his vision, Bakura saw Malik jump to his feet, but Seto grabbed his arm to hold him in place. 

“Give up?” Bakura asked as energy pooled around Diabound for another attack. 

“Never!” Ryou shouted. 

Rishi charged. Diabound loosed his attack, but Ryou’s ka leapt into the air to avoid it. Diving, his horn pierced into Diabound’s shoulder. Bakura grabbed his own shoulder; Malik mirrored him. Diabound dropped into the floor again, springing up from behind the creature and striking with his serpentine tail. 

They continued for fifteen minutes. Sweat poured down Bakura’s neck and chest. His breathing came out in rasps. Ryou still knelt on one knee. The sweat soaked through his shirt. 

“I can do this all day, but you look pretty tired,” Bakura said, but he was bluffing. He was exhausted. 

“I’ll be fine. Thank you.” Ryou’s ka showered Diabound with another volley of rapid fire. 

Diabound stood still, enduring the hits as he charged up for a final attack powerful enough to knock the kirin down for good. When the energy crashed into the kirin, Ryou flew back a foot, smashing against the floor. Bakura ran toward him to see if he was okay, but while he was distracted, Rishi attacked Diabound, and Bakura was knocked further along the floor than Ryou. He pushed himself up, wanting to stand, and crashed back to the ground. 

He heard Ryou declared the winner and groaned. Malik appeared with an outstretched hand, offering to help Bakura to his feet. Bakura accepted the gesture, rubbing the back of his head and staring at his former host. 

“That was pretty good.”

“It was important to me… to beat you. I wanted to prove I was strong enough.” 

“Damn, you Kaibas take everything so seriously.” Bakura laughed, but his stomach felt heavy because he knew why Ryou wanted to win—why he needed it. 

“And now that I’ve won, Bakura would you please take my place when it’s time for the next round? I would like to sit down now.”

“Sure. I’ll be good as new after the other match.” 

“Thank you.” Ryou all but fell against Seto, and allowed himself to be taken to the seating where Seto swaddled Ryou in blankets. 

“It was a nice match,” Malik said. 

“Be a dear and avenge my loss.” Bakura winked as he left the arena and sat down beside Ryou. 

Malik summoned his Roc and Seto summoned the Blue Eyes White Dragon. 

“The fuck, Seto! That’s not your ka!” Malik shouted in protest. 

“Afraid you’ll lose?” 

“Whatever. Start the match.” Malik grit his teeth. 

The enormous bird crashed into the dragon. Claws scratched while feathers floated down to the floor. The BEWD shot her own blast, and the Roc flew around the arena, avoiding the attack. Seto cackled as he kept Malik’s ka on the run, but then the creature moved forward like a comet trailing light behind it. Rukh knocked the dragon to the ground so hard that a trickle of blood dribbled down Kaiba’s chin. He wiped the stain away from his mouth with a dark, blue silk handkerchief.

The BEWD vanished. Bakura’s mouth dropped. Before he asked if the match was over, the ground shook. 

“No, he’s fucking not.” Bakura shook his head, shocked. 

“Probably is.” Ryou replied to Bakura’s unasked question. 

Obelisk rose up from the floor, looming above Seto like the god he was. 

“How is this not cheating?” Bakrua cupped his mouth and shouted, so Seto could hear him. 

“He summoned it fair and square,” Ryou said. 

“But how’s a giant bird supposed to compete with a god?” 

“Malik is going to win this match without using any of his best attacks. Wait and see what happens.” Ryou held a finger up to his lips.

Malik’s ka charged with light again. With wings spread, light shot from each feather, aimed for the earth god. The god didn’t move, but Bakura could tell by the look on Seto’s face that the attack hurt. Obelisk countered, but his earth attacks weren’t very effective against a flying ka. With a growl of frustration, Seto called back the god and brought out his own Duos. 

“About time.” Malik snorted. 

Duos was small but strong and quick. He launched at Malik’s ka, and they slashed at each other before separating and diving in for another attack. As with Bakura and Ryou, Malik and Seto were dripping sweat and breathing hard. It didn’t stop their ka from clashing over and over. 

Seto fainted. 

“He shouldn’t have summoned Obelisk. A god takes too much energy to wield.” Ryou shook his head. 

“Uh, should we get a doctor, or…”

“Look.” Ryou gestured to the arena. Seto blinked his eyes open and Malik helped him to his feet. 

“Good match.” Seto sighed. 

“You haven’t been sleeping well, have you? Last time you kicked my ass.” 

“I won't make excuses. You won.” Seto and Malik headed back over to where Ryou and Bakura sat. 

“Give me a few minutes to recover before we go.” Malik sighed as he eased down to one of the bench seats. 

Bakura slid behind Malik and rubbed the back of Malik’s neck. 

“Trying to soften me before our match?” Malik asked, but his voice sounded affectionate. 

“I just don’t want your sore muscles distracting me.” Bakura resisted the urge to lean forward and kiss Malik’s garam marsala colored skin.

 

His fingers tingled as he massaged Malik. Bakura ignored the feeling at first, not wanting to admit that touching Malik has such a strong effect, but then he recognized the tingling for what it truly was- heka trying to take shape. Bakura focused, giving into the emotions making the fine hairs on his arms stand up. A faint shimmer surrounded him and sank into Malik’s skin. 

“Oh gods, I don’t know what you’re doing, but don’t stop.” Malik sighed, he sounded enraptured. 

“Bakura— you just taught yourself your first healing spell,” Ryou said. 

“Did what now?” Bakura asked. 

“Malik, how do you feel?” Ryou asked. 

“Uh… great, actually. I’m not fatigued anymore.” 

“Good. Then stop wasting time and start your duel,” Seto said. 

“Gods, Kaiba. I’d tell you to calm down if I didn’t remember how much worse you used to be as a kid.” Malik stood and walked to the arena. “Thanks for the heal, Bakura, but I hope you saved some energy for yourself, because I’m going to kick your ass.” 

“Doesn’t matter how hard the fight with your Roc is. I can take anything you shove my way.” Bakura smirked.

“Minus 1000 LP for the awful pun and innuendo,” Seto said over the loudspeaker. 

Bakura flipped him the bird before summoning Diabound back onto the field. The moment Diabound appeared, Malik shouted. 

“Rukh! Attack!” 

The golden-feathered creature screeched and the soundwaves slammed Diabound against the arena wall—and Bakura to the ground. 

“Sonic attacks. Should have known that your secret power was screaming at me.” Bakura coughed as he pushed himself to his feet. Diabound disappeared into the floor. 

“Don’t fight like a coward, Bakura. Or I’ll tear down this entire arena to find you.” 

“Do it. It’s not mine.” Bakua laughed as Diabound appeared behind Malik and shot Rukh with a blast of energy. 

Malik countered with his comet move, crashing their ka together and creating a shower of sparks. Bakura shielded his eyes from the explosion of light. His stomach tingled and he blushed for no reason. He didn’t understand why their ka crashing together would have that effect, but he blamed their mind link. 

“What sort of attack was _that_?” Bakura scoffed to hide the fact that his cheeks were on fire. 

“Shut up! It’s probably your fault!” Malik attacked with another sound wave. 

Bakura was ready this time. Diabound sank through the floor and sprung back up with an energy blast aimed for Rukh. Malik fell onto his hands and knees. Bakura felt his own breath knocked from him from the blast, but he kept going. Diabound lashed with his tail while Rukh clawed at the creature. Both ka crashed to the floor and rolled. 

Another blinding burst of light consumed the entire arena. Bakura’s thoughts swooned and he teetered on his feet. Sweat rolled down Bakura’s face, worse than his first match, and he gasped for breath. His entire body tingled, damn near vibrated. From the bleachers, he could hear Ryou and Seto laughing. 

“Dammit, Bakura, _stop it_.” Malik screamed. 

“Stop _what_?” He shouted back. 

“Whatever you’re doing to make _that_ happen!” 

“I’m not doing anything! It’s your fault.” 

“This has never happened to me before!” 

Seto and Ryou chanted something from their seats. Bakura tuned out Malik enough to listen. It sounded like _polymerization_ repeated over and over. Malik ignored them, bombarding Bakura with every long distance attack he had. 

“Oooooh. I get it.” Bakura smirked as Diabound dodge most of Rukh’s hits. Bakura prompted Diabound to disappear into the floor once again. 

“Bakura! I already told you—”

Before Malik could finish Diabound sprung up and embraced Rukh. Bakura gasped, eyelids fluttering shut as Malik’s presence grew closer than usual through their bond. He was vibrating now, every single nerve hummed with the entwine power of his and Malik’s magic. 

“Bakura, how did we…?” Malik’s question died in his throat. 

Bakura opened his eyes, but had to cover them with a hand to shield against the light of their combined ka. The beast had Rukh’s feet, but Diabound’s torso and tail. Both ka’s wings stretched behind the combined version, and it had Diabound’s face, only crowned with feathers.

“Should we call it Diarukh, or Rukhabound?” Bakura grinned.

“Behind you, idiot!” Malik shouted, shoving Bakura out of the way as Rishi charged into the arena with Duos on his back. 

“Somehow, we always end up fighting together, don’t we?” Bakura looked at Malik. 

“You damn fool, quit flirting, and help me control this thing before they kick our ass.” Malik jumped to his feet. 

Bakura pushed himself up. He tried attacking, but Malik’s will interfered. Ryou and Seto’s ka showered them with blasts before swooping in with Duos’s sword. The shots caught Malik and Bakura off guard, but they managed to dodge the sword attack and counter with Diabound’s tail. Malik used a sonic attack, and Bakura tried to have them sink through the floor, but Malik blocked the move. 

“Malik! You can’t control him by yourself.”

“Just support my moves, and stop pulling that stupid trick!”

“It’s not stupid! They can’t attack if we’re out of the way!” 

“We can’t attack, either!”

Rishi and Duos combined their attacks to create a light sword The blast knocked Malik and Bakura together on the floor. Bakura felt the hit in his own chest, it was enough for him and Malik to fall out of sync and lose their polymerized ka. 

“You fools made winning too easy,” Seto scoffed. “Practice fighting together more. I want a challenge next time we battle.” 

“Look what you did, Bakura. We lost.”

“Me? You were being a control freak _as usual_.” 

“I have better strategies than you!”

“Says who?” Bakura threw his hands into the air. 

Malik pointed a finger at Bakura’s chest. “This stupid fighting is why we lost in the first place.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t be so argumentative!” 

“Um, guys, do you need help up?” Ryou loomed above them with Seto standing beside him. 

“I’m comfortable, but thanks.” Bakura lidded his gaze as he looked at Malik, who still lay half on top of him from the blast. 

“You’re such a dork.” Malik exhaled, his frustration from the battle dissipating. He rolled off Bakura and stood. 

“Well, I’m going to take a nap. I’m exhausted.” Ryou smiled, but sweat still speckled his temples and his skin looked like beeswax. “I might eat supper in my room tonight. We can play games tomorrow, all right?”

“Ryou.” Bakura jumped up to his feet. 

“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine, but I need to rest after all that. Seto will stay close.”

“Quite close.” Seto scooped Ryou in his arms and carried him out of the arena with Ryou giggling behind him.

“Let’s go practice magic some more.” Bakura turned to Malik. 

“Bakura. I’m exhausted too, aren’t you?”

“That’s why they invented coffee.” Bakura’s jaw clenched into a tight line. 

Malik twined their fingers together. “How about a nap in the sunroom before we practice?” 

Bakura grit his teeth, hating how good the idea sounded to him. He conceded, following Malik through the mansion. They reached the sunroom; Malik pulled Bakura into his arms as they settled onto the chaise. Vines and glass windows filled Bakura’s line of sight. He stared at them as Malik pressed against his back and coiled his arms around Bakura’s torso. Gradually, his body relaxed, allowing him to absorb the moment without hyperfocusing on magic and how pale Ryou’s already-white skin looked beneath the arena lights.

“We’ll practice as soon as we wake up,” Malik whispered against the nape of Bakura’s neck. 

“Yeah,” Bakura muttered as the warmth of Malik’s body and his steady breathing finally lulled him to sleep. 


	10. Chapter 10

Three months later and Malik and Bakura flew down the hallway. Literally flew. The air resistance whipped at Bakura’s hair. The white stands fluttered behind him like dozens of streamers. 

“How are you so fast?” Malik screamed and shrieked with laughter as they raced.

“Git gud, bitch!” Bakura called behind his shoulder as he catapulted around the corner.

“If I catch you, I’m going to—”

“Ryou!” Bakura sank to his feet and ran the last few steps to the crumpled pile in the hallway leading to Malik’s sunroom.

“Hey! What's the big idea—oh gods, no.” Malik dropped to his feet when he noticed Ryou unconscious on the rug.

Bakura cradled Ryou in his arms and smashed his ear against the side of Ryou's chest. Ryou's heart beat was muffled, but there. Bakura held his breath, refusing to think, refusing to admit what he feared when he saw Ryou on the floor. 

“I'll go get the doctor.” Malik sprinted the way they'd come. 

“Fuck the doctor,” Bakura growled between clenched teeth. Ryou needed a miracle, not medicine, but everything Bakura tried—failed.

“Don't you leave me, don't you dare leave me, you bastard.” Bakura pressed their foreheads together. He closed his eyes, feeling the heka surrounding them. Ryou's ka was a flicker, a candle near the end of its wick, sputtering the last of its light. Bakura focused all his energy into restoring that wick. It didn’t do much, but Ryou did open his eyes. 

“Bakura?” Ryou whispered. “Where am I?” 

“On the floor, stupid.” It was all Bakura could think to say.

“I'm cold.”

“Here.” Bakura wrapped himself tighter around Ryou, waiting for Malik to show up with the medical staff. His eyes burned. His vision blurred. Words left his lips against his will. “I never thanked you. For saving me from the Shadow Realm. It's been six months, and my dumb ass hasn't said thank you yet.” 

“Are you saying it now?” Ryou tried to squeeze Bakura, but he was so weak that Bakura could hardly feel it. 

“I'm saying, who will teach me manners if you go?” 

“Sorry, Bakura. Can't teach an old dog new tricks.” 

“Not true. I've learned how to fly through the air, and heal the broken wing of a bird, and turn water into beer.” 

“I think it's supposed to be wine,” Ryou said.

“But I like beer better.” 

“I'm so tired.” 

“Don't you dare!” Bakura's voice cracked as he clutched Ryou closer. “Stay here!” 

He tried. He tried to fill Ryou's soul with light, but Bakura was only just learning that there was any light within himself, let alone how to share it with others. He shook. The heat broke and itched down his cheeks. The nurses appeared, placed Ryou on a stretcher, and rolled him away.

Malik's arms engulfed him. Malik's fingers carded through his hair.

“He'll be okay. You woke him up. He'll be okay.” 

“He's not okay. He's dying.” Bakura clutched at Malik's shirt.

“I know… but not today. It won't happen today.” Malik struggled to lift Bakura into his arms.

“What are you doing?” 

"Taking you to the sun room.”

“Set me down. I’m not Ryou. You don’t have to carry me.”

“ _Let me_.” Malik growled, refusing to put Bakura down until he reached the purple chaise they often shared for naps. 

He smoothed the loose hair away from Bakura’s face and squeezed his hand. They stared at each other for three solid minutes without speaking, eyes bright and tear-brimmed. Bakura broke first. 

“Malik… Ryou's my friend. What am I going to do without him?” Bakura buried his face into Malik's shirt. 

“Your best.” Malik wiped the tears from his own eyes. “We all are. That's what he wants the most.” 

“Why isn’t anything working? I’ve mastered every scroll you have, every spell in Ryou’s grimoire collection, even a few rituals Seto got ahold of on the black market, but nothing’s _helping_.” 

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s his time.”

“Don’t you dare give me some nonsense destiny speech. That’s something your sister would say. Where’s the Malik Ishtar who makes his own destiny?” 

“He’s tired and doesn’t know what else to do.” Malik’s nails sank into the purple material of the chaise. “I’ve seen Ryou go from someone who never sleeps to someone who can’t stay awake for more than an hour at a time.” Tears dripped down Malik’s chin as he stared at the floor. “We’ve tried those spells before. They didn’t work for us. I’ve taken him to every holistic specialist on the planet. Seto’s done the same with doctors. Kaiba Corp has launched the medical industry into the future trying to develop technology that would help, but like you said—nothing works. I’m trying to accept it.”

“Fuck acceptance! There has to be a way! We’ll keep making new spells! We’ll figure out something.” Bakura shoved off the couch, stomping toward the nearest window. 

A wisp of reflection met him in the glass. He saw Malik slip behind him before Malik rested his hand on Bakura’s shoulder. 

“Okay.”

Bakura turned around, stared at Malik, and allowed himself to sink into Malik’s embrace. They didn’t speak, only leaned against each other’s bodies.

“So…” Malik sighed. 

“I have something in mind, but I need to work a few things out in the back of my head.” Bakura pulled away. “Want to play our game? It’ll help me think.” 

“Let’s go back to that Kraken. It’s only stomped our asses half a dozen times.” 

“You know what they say. Seventh time’s a charm.” 

Malik fetched the ear pieces and wristbands they kept in the sun room so Ryou wouldn’t find them. He handed Bakura his set before fitting on his own. Bakura activated his wristband. 

The sunroom transformed into the deck of a ship. Salt and brine tickled his nose as the wind teased his mess of hair. The lull of waves were a pleasant distraction from all his boiling thoughts about Ryou. 

“Let me organize our inventory. Last battle I was scrounging for ethers for you when I could have been attacking.” 

“Drink the dexterity boost before we fight. It should stack with the spell I use.” 

“Okay, and I think I can find what I need for battle now so let’s move.” 

“Oh wait, let me switch out weapons.”

“Why? Your current staff ups your magic.”

“Yeah, but when we went back to level grind last time I found a Lightning Rod.”

“I swear to Set, if you’re equiping that because of the name—” 

“Sea creatures are weak against lightning attacks, Malik!” Bakura shoved his silver staff into hammer space and pulled out a golden one instead. “The name is a bonus.” 

“How much is a little lightning damage going to do against a Kraken? I’ll do the fighting, just back me. Dammit Bakura, listen for once or we’ll end up on the floor again like we do when we try to fight with our ka.” 

“Thirteen percent chance of casting Thunderstorm. If I manage to land even one of those, the Kraken’s ass is ours.” 

“Those are _not_ good odds,” Malik said. 

“Those are my _favorite_ odds.” 

“Fine. Just don’t forget to cast your spells while you’re trying to smack the god-like monster with your tiny stick.” 

“My rod.” Bakura grinned. 

Malik shook his head as he set his hands on the steering wheel of the ship, moving the vesel forward. They steered the ship between two boulders rising from the waves. The air flashed with light and sea-green tentacles pushed up from the foam followed by a beaked Kraken’s head. 

Malik sucked down a potion as Bakura cast buffs. Malik spun, and thin tendrils of lightning sizzled across the Kraken’s skin. Bakura added shields to protect them a second before one of the tentacles swooped in and shattered the one covering Malik. He ignored the danger, continuing his lightning dance and slowly draining the Kraken’s HP. Bakura reapplied the shield, managing to dodge another tentacle. With his free turn, he smacked the barnacle-ridden appendage. Yellow sparks surrounded the tentacle, but it wasn’t enough to kill it, and Malik needed another shield. 

“Ether!” Bakura shouted.

Malik tossed it to him and used an attack of opportunity to cut the nearest tentacle in half. Bakura slammed down the bitter drink and cast Regen on both of them, and his Advanced Dexterity on Malik. 

Like a whip, a tentacle cut through the air, slamming Bakura into the deck of the ship. He bit the inside of his cheek as he crashed into the wooden floor. Spitting out blood, Bakura held his staff high and shouted the mass cure spell before standing to his feet again. He added fresh shields to them, and Malik twirled with his last lightning dance. 

Now the battle grew difficult. Without the lightning sapping the Kraken’s HP while attacking all the tentacles at once, it was up to them to cut them down before they could directly attack the head—and of course they would regen after so many turns passed. Bakura beat at his nearest tentacle, finally managing to send one slithering back into the water. 

He cured them again, and solidified shields. Malik slashed the last tentacle, but before he could attack the Kraken, the water swelled up before them. 

“Malik!” Bakura shouted. 

“I see it!” Malik hoisted himself into the air, tossing a Ether at Bakura before he left.

Bakura stood and faced the swell, a wall of melted green glass rushing toward him. He drank the Ether, he’d need the mana in order to recover. Without a flight ability, Bakura could only stand his ground as the water crashed all around him. Bakura tumbled in the current of the attack. His back smacked against the rail at the back of the ship before the water drained, leaving him with a single HP left.

“Fuck.” Bakura coughed water out of his mouth, hating KC tech at such moments. 

He pressed his hand to his chest, healing himself before surrounding them both another shield. Malik used the time to perform his strongest air dance. He managed three attacks as Bakura ran to the front of the ship. Then the tentacles exploded from the waves again. One smacked Malik to the ship deck. His shield shattered. 

“Fuck this bitch!” Malik screamed, face red from his lost temper. “I’m going to turn his fucking hide into boots with my crafting skill!” 

“Gotta kill him first.” Bakura restored Malik’s shield. 

They repeated the former cycle, attacking the tentacles, destroying them, then Malik going into the air to avoid the tsunami attack while Bakura endured it. After the third time, Bakura was half tempted to hack into the system and restore Malik’s lightning dances just to get it over with, when the battle shifted again. 

The tentacles locked onto the ship, holding it in place, and the Kraken drew close. He bit Bakura with his beak, shattering his shield and managing to cut his arm. Malik seized the opportunity to attack with any dances he had left. His swords moved like a whirlwind through the air as he slashed into the Kraken’s gray-green hide. 

The tentacles shook the ship, doing ground damage. Malik avoided it because of his flight powers, but Bakura sank to his knees. He healed every turn, unable to cast new shields as he barely managed to stay alive. Malik and the Kraken exchanged blows, but Bakura’s heal spells kept Malik’s HP full. 

“Out of Mana. Malik, use a potion and give me an Ether!” 

Malik chucked a Ether toward Bakura, but used his other turn to stab the Kraken instead of drinking his own potion. 

“Malik! Heal!” Bakura chugged his own drink. 

“I got this! He’s almost dead!” Malik roared, using a final sword dance to knock out most—but not all—of the Kraken’s HP.

The Kraken plunged his beak through Malik’s chest. Malik’s eyes glazed over as he fell backward, crashing against the deck. 

“Malik!” Bakura shrieked, unable to heal Malik in time and only restoring his own health. 

With a roar Bakura smacked the Kraken, but even with his lightning bonus, he only managed to lower the monster’s HP bar by a hair. 

He wasn’t strong enough. 

Having nothing else to do but cure and run out of mana, Bakura wailed in the creature’s face. He thumped his staff against the Kraken’s beak again, over and over despite the futility of his attacks. The Kraken countered, shattering Bakura’s shield as he kept wailing on the beast. The Kraken attacked again, and blood flooded the deck from Bakura’s torn shoulder. 

“Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!” Bakura continued to smack with his good arm, blind with rage. 

As the Kraken opened his beak for his coup de grace, black clouds filled the sky. Flashes of yellow and white rumbled behind the cloud surface. Bakura looked up, and cackled. He dropped to his knees, exhausted and throbbing in pain, but it didn’t matter anymore. He stared at the Kraken and grinned. 

“Thunderstorm you fucking bitch.”

Bolts struck from the sky. Seven of them, directly hitting the Kraken. He was dead by the third bolt, but the spell continued until the end, disappearing as quickly as it and leaving the sky a serene blue. 

Bakura ignored his bleeding chest and held Malik in his arms. He ran a hand down Malik’s unconscious face, trying to remember that it was a KO, not a real death. Still, that afternoon, seeing Ryou unconscious as well, Bakura’s emotions swarmed him and the tears flooded his cheeks. He pulled Malik to his chest, staining Malik in blood. His breathing fractured and broke, shattering into thin hyperventilating. 

“Lo- Lo- Luo-na-”

Months of grinding had gotten them both up to level 18—19 now that they’d beaten the Kraken—but Bakura couldn’t use the life spell he’d learned at level 13 because he couldn’t breathe. He bit down on his hand, forcing himself to calm down.

“Luonazun!” He shouted before his breath had a chance to spiral away from him again.

Malik groaned. It was beautiful to hear because only the living moaned in pain. Bakura cackled into the blue sea air. 

“I fucking hate dying. Gods bless, Seto, why are you like this?” 

“Drink the fucking potion next time.” Bakura laughed as he wiped at his face with the skirt of his robe.

“Bakura?” Malik stared at his face. “Were you crying over me?”

“I was pissed that you missed how fucking _badass_ I was!”

“You hit him with your stick and cast Thunderstorm, didn't you?” Malik smiled.

“Damn right I did.” 

“Sorry,” Malik whispered. “Bad habits are hard to break and I still act like a fool when I'm angry.”

“I know.” Bakura bumped their noses.

Malik held Bakura's face and pressed their lips together. Bakura gasped, and moaned, and deepened the kiss. He missed the echo of their mind link, but refused to stop until Malik jerked away.

“You're bleeding.” 

“I used all my MP on Luonazun.” 

“Ask for an Ether.” Malik popped the top off of the ether and poured it down Bakura's throat. Magic returned, he restored his HP. The blood disappeared from his skin and clothes the moment his wounds healed.

“Now where were we?” Malik asked in a husky voice.

Their mouths crashed together, clumsy as they fought for turns to suck on the others lip. Bakura tugged off the violet coin belt from Malik's hips. He toyed with Malik's sides, slipping his hands further so he could caress Malik's lower back.

Malik trailed kisses along Bakura's jaw and down the side of his neck. He worked his right hand down the waist of Bakura's robe. Bakura tossed his head back, anticipating the thrill of Malik's hand wrapping around his dick.

A buzzing sound tore through the air. They both jerked, grabbing their weapons. The computer voice echoed through the air.

“Your current actions go against the rating system. If you continue the game will end and you'll lose any unsaved progress.”

“Dammit Seto!” Malik punched the deck. “Death is a-okay but I can't give Bakura a handjob?” 

“What kind of birthday present is this if you weren't planning on giving Ryou a blow job on an airship?” Bakura asked the sky as if Seto were watching them—which was always a possibility. He nudged Malik with his elbow. “Don't worry. I'll have this hacked in less than a week, but for now, Save and Exit.” 

The sunroom returned. Dusk bled across the floor and burnished their hair to the color of slag. Bakura ran his hand up and down Malik's biceps. He felt Malik shiver. Their mental link intensified each brush of their skin as they tumbled to the chaise. Bakura dipped Malik, lowering him on top of the soft cushions. 

Bakura dropped to his knees. He situated himself between Malik's legs and kissed around Malik's navel. Malik bucked, demanding attention to his cock. Bakura smiled and trailed a finger along the tent of Malik's pants as he kissed down Malik's happy trail.

“Bakura. Bakura,” Malik whined as Bakura pulled down Malik's fly. 

“You're skin’s soft,” Bakura murmured against Malik's body as he hooked his fingers through Malik's belt loops.

Malik raised his hips so Bakura could tug the pants to the floor. Bakura smothered Malik's pelvis with kisses, licking Malik's shaft and sucking on his inner thighs.

“Gods.” Malik's breath stuttered in his throat.

Bakura's nerves thrummed. His and Malik's desire burned until the hand around the base of Malik's cock shook from pure, savage, _need._ He plunged down until Malik's tip nudged the back of his throat, sucking up and free falling all the way down again. Phantom sensations tingled up and down his own cock. Bakura fumbled a hand into his pants. His left hand held Malik's base and his right hand stroked his shaft. 

Malik's moans deepened as Bakura stoked himself. He eased deeper into Bakura's mouth, fingers threading through the white ribbons of Bakura's hair. Bakura bucked into his fist, bobbing as fast as he could.

“Bakura… Bakura. Gods, Bakura yes. Yes. Yes! Yes! Yesyesyesyesyes!” 

Malik's shouts melted together. His cock strained, so fat Bakura could hardly fit it into his mouth. He spread his knees a little wider, staying as deep as he could while letting go of Malik's base. Bakura slipped his other hand down his pants, pressing against perineum as he stoked. Malik compensated for Bakura's shift in balance by pulling his hair and thrusting between Bakura's lips. They closed their eyes as their orgasm welled inside them, overflowing through their bodies even as Malik overflowed into Bakura's mouth. 

He swallowed, and rode out the last tremors of orgasm before exhaling and dropping back onto the floor. They both fiddled with their pants until they were dressed, and Malik crawled beside Bakura. 

“The stars came out.” Malik looked at the now-night sky through the glass.

“Then we must be stars already in the Duat because we came too.” 

“Do you ever think of how pointless it is to mourn lost loved ones when we literally know the afterlife is real?” 

“Even if the Fields are as beautiful as the priests say, when you're sick with a fever… you want your mother,” Bakura whispered. 

“That's true.” 

“I couldn't even tell myself they were stars,” Bakura spoke to the night sky. “They were ghosts shrieking all around me. They were still burning and suffering and I couldn't stop it.”

Bakura's voice seized up. His eyes burned, but he pushed through his story, needing to say it out loud, trusting Malik to listen and understand him.

“I brought water. I prayed… I prayed so much at the beginning, but the only god who ever listened was Zorc. I couldn't heal them…I couldn't heal them…” Bakura covered his face to hide the tears scorching his cheeks. “I tried. I tried. I tried, but I couldn't help them, so I wanted the pharaohs to suffer _with them_. It was all I could do…” 

“I know.” Malik wrapped his arms around Bakura's stomach. 

“It's happening all over again.” 

“Ryou's heart is a feather, Bakura. He won't suffer—” Malik shifted, rubbing his face against Bakura's shoulder. “He won't suffer once he's gone.” 

“I hate the gods. I hate them!” Bakura shrieked, wrenching himself to his feet and pacing. “How could they let my village suffer like that? How could they put Ryou through everything he’s endured? They should have stopped me! If the gods are so fucking good and powerful they should have destroyed Zorc 3,000 years ago! Then you, and Ryou, and everyone's life would be better if Ammit had eaten my soul the first time I died!” 

“You don't know that.” Malik held Bakura in place, staring into his eyes. “There's plenty of cults in the world, and who's to say my father wouldn't have joined a different one and did the exact same thing even without the Pharaoh's memories as an excuse?” 

“I shoved Ryou's hand through a game tower!” Bakura shoved his left palm into Malik's face. “I put him in a position where he sacrificed his own damn life for his friends!” 

Ryou’s calm voice cut through Bakura’s sobs. “But I'm the one who chose winning and saving my friends over my own life.”

They turned and saw Ryou. A shawl wrapped around his shoulders, and he sat on a Persian style rug which hovered above the ground. Ryou floated into the room, flicking one of the golden tassels.

“Like my flying carpet? Seto designed it for me.”

“Thank the gods, you're awake.” Malik rushed to him.

“You can't walk, can you?” Bakura asked, stepping closer. 

“I get dizzy and fall,” Ryou confessed. 

“I'm going to make this right. I fucking swear I will.” Bakura touched the border of the rug hovering beside them.

“Bakura, please listen and understand me when I say you already have. I wanted so badly to save you, but I was afraid that you'd run off and get yourself killed again. Or worse, sent back to the Shadow Realm somehow. Every day you're still here fills me with joy.” 

“Forget me! Save yourself, Ryou! Quit acting like a martyr for your friends!” 

“Don't worry. I'm not dead yet, and I'm going to fight to live as long as I can.” 

Bakura crashed to his knees. His face sank into the fibers of the rug as he wept.

“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I wish I could undo it. I'd undo everything.”

His fingers dug into the carpet. Malik and Ryou petted the hair spilling over Ryou's lap and the front of the rug. Once Bakura would have slapped them away and snarled at them for daring to touch him, but now he craved the comfort even as he hated himself for needing it when his and Ryou's roles should have been swapped. 

“I was wrong. You _have_ picked up some manners. Who knew miracles were real?” Ryou spoke in a soothing voice. “I didn't eat anything today. Want to raid the kitchen with me?” 

“Sure,” Malik said.

“Only if we get to eat dessert first.” Bakura stood and dried his face, resolved to stop crying. Ryou wasn't fucking dead yet, so it was too soon for tears.

“Was hoping you'd say that.” A genuine smile glowed in Ryou's face. “Hey, didn't you mention you learned how to fly?” 

“Yes.” Malik hovered into the air, floating around Ryou's “magic carpet.” 

“Well then—last one to the kitchen does dishes!” Ryou zoomed down the hall, his hair flowing behind him.

Malik screamed and followed. Bakura sprinted to gain momentum and leapt up, rushing to catch up as the others laughed down the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tmi time: 
> 
> "Eating dessert first" is a reference to a story my mom always told me. 
> 
> She spent her senior year in high school going to school first shift, beauty college second shift, and working at a dunken donuts third shift, and one of the only breaks she'd ever get was going to her grandmother's house (my great grandmother) to eat dinner. But my great grandma would always smile at her 3 bites into dinner and say "why don't we eat dessert first?" 
> 
> and since this fic is about trying to process losing dead friends/family, it was an important reference to add and explain since I miss both of them.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was asleep, and then I remembered it was update day. Good thing this chapter was already saved as a draft.
> 
> Y'all, spirolactone makes me an air head, so feel free to message me or @ me if I don't update to make sure I didn't forget.
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy the ending of this chapter. I tried ty make it pretty.

Malik was on one of his long, boring calls to home, so Bakura sat in the game room, eating chips and watching a vengeance horror movie Ryou suggested. He choked from laughing during the final death scene as the antagonist’s head tumbled across the floor. 

Seto walked into the room, eyeing Bakura warily. Bakura crumpled his empty bag of chips and tossed them at the trashcan. The bag half-unfurled mid-air and fluttered to the carpet instead of the bin. Bakura rolled his eyes and stood. 

“What’s up, Kaiba? Y’gonna spit out what you want to say, or do we have to play a card game first?”

“If we dueled you’d lose, the same way you and Malik always lose against my and Ryou’s ka.” 

“A three-way polymerization between Rishi, Duos, and the Blue Eyes is a bit of a stacked deck.” Bakura snorted. “You’re still avoiding whatever you actually came here for, which means it involves Ryou. What’s wrong?”

Seto averted his eyes and dropped into a random chair. He spoke to the bookcase instead of Bakura. 

“He won’t eat, not even the broth. I’m…” Seto’s jaw tightened before he pushed the last word from his throat. “Worried.” 

“What should I do?” Bakura stared at the opposite wall, no more capable of looking at Kaiba than Kaiba could look at him. 

“Talk to him? Whatever it is that you do that makes him share food with you.” 

“I’ll go to the kitchen right now.” 

Bakura marched to the bookcase and tugged at the Wilkie Collins book to reach the backway. The blue lights flicked across Bakura’s white skin, making him glow in the hallway. He reached the pantry and raided the freezer. He found a box of frozen cream puffs along with a tub of ice cream. He dumped the ice cream in a blender with peanut butter and whole milk, mixing it into a milkshake. In the biggest glass he could find, Bakura drizzled chocolate syrup on the bottom, then whipped cream, before pouring half the milkshake into the cup. He continued layering the chocolate and cream, and garnished the top with three cream puffs. Then he walked to Ryou’s room, sipping on the drink as if it were his. 

“What’s up, Ryou?” Bakura jerked the curtain beside Ryou’s bed to the side, exposing the room to the sunlight. 

Ryou winced at the brightness, and Bakura winced at the sight of Ryou. He’d lost more weight in the three days he’d been laying in bed. He was a skeleton with a mop of hair wrapped up in a quilt. Ever the liar, Bakura faked a grin. 

“...don’t feel good,” Ryou muttered. “Tired.” 

“Of course you don’t feel good.” Bakura drew a huge sip of his milkshake. “You’ve been in bed for three fucking days. Get your lazy ass onto that magic carpet of yours and let’s do something.” 

“I appreciate the effort you’re making, but… I can’t.” Ryou sighed, rolling onto his side away from Bakura. 

Bakura set his glass down and found Ryou’s magical wheelchair. He pushed it to the bed, scooped Ryou into his arms, and set him down onto the rug. 

“Bakura, please.” 

“Please drag your emaciated ass outside? Sure thing, boss.” Bakura winked, tucking the quilt around Ryou, who shivered despite the space heater humming next to his bed. 

“Everything aches, I’m freezing, and I’ll just fall asleep. Let me stay in bed.”

“Will staying in bed fix any of the things you just mentioned?” Bakura grabbed their milkshake before shoving the carpet forward. 

“You know it won’t.” Ryou pulled the quilt over his head and curled into a small ball on the rug. 

“Exactly. If you’re going to feel like roadkill no matter what, you might as well work on your tan.” 

“You’re so silly.” Ryou peeked out from his blanket. “Did you stick cream puffs on top of your milkshake?”

“Fuck yeah I did.” 

“Why are earth would you put them _on top_ and not on the side? They’ll get soggy before you eat them. I thought you changed, but you’re clearly more evil than ever before.”

“Psh, like I care if they’re soggy. Guess you can save them, if you want.” He nonchalantly tilted the shake in Ryou’s direction. 

“I know you’re playing me, but I can’t resist.” Ryou’s arms shook as he pushed himself up to sitting. He stole the top-most cream puff from the little mound of cream on Bakura’s shake. 

He took another sip. Outside, he found a bench in the garden surrounded by rose bushes. Ryou stole a second cream puff and looked around. He hovered beside the bench, tucked in the very center of the flying carpet as if he were afraid of falling over the edge. 

“I can’t remember the last time I was outside.”

“Lucky. I was outside yesterday because Malik physically dragged me here to get some fresh air.” 

“Isn’t that exactly what you’re doing to me now?”

“I refuse to suffer alone.” 

“Sounds like you.” Ryou tilted his head. “What flavor is that?”

“Peanut butter chocolate.” 

“Why on earth would you mix that with cream puffs?” Ryou stole the last puff as if to protest the entire creation in Bakura’s hand. 

“I don’t know? Looked good at the time. I don’t pick apart your lunch, you damn snobby food critic.” Again, Bakura lied. He’d chosen the food because of the high calorie content. Ryou needed all he could get in what few sips Bakura would be able to coax into him.

“Let me try.” Ryou leaned forward. 

“Oh. Right. Sure. Nag at my food and then steal half of it.” Bakura slipped the straw between Ryou’s lips. 

“It's pretty good. A little too much peanut butter,” Ryou said. 

“Is that your way of saying it needs more chocolate?” Bakura took a quick sip before offering it to Ryou again.

“Maybe.” Ryou flashed a guilty grin.

“Noted.” 

They split the drink until it was gone, but continued to sit in the sunlight and talk about nothing. Their conversation was useless, serving no purpose, but Bakura found himself enjoying it all the same.

“Are you okay, Bakura? You look thoughtful.” 

“The dying guy asks if _I'm_ okay.” Bakura grunted, but the irritated sounds melted into a sigh and the words slipped out of his mouth easier than they should have. “I was thinking about conversations and how strange they are. I broke into the palace, dragging a dead king behind me and screaming, but no one listened to a damn word I said. At the same time, here we are barely more than whispering, but I know you understand what I'm saying.” 

“Sometimes speaking—not screaming—is the key.” 

“Sometimes, but not back then. I was a thief. They would not suffer a thief to speak. That's why I screamed. That's why the ghosts were always screaming.” 

“During that final RPG I wanted to go into the game with the others. I wanted to help,” Ryou said. 

“I wasn’t ready to have a conversation back then. I was still screaming.” 

In the distance Malik walked toward them. The sight made Bakura think of Ra moving the sun through the sky. Bakura stood, almost running to meet Malik halfway to the bench for no other reason than he was happy to see him. Malik's smile widened, and he hurried his pace until they stood facing each other.

“Hey,” Bakura whispered.

“Hey. Good to see you outside without me dragging you on a leash.” 

“I was bored.”

“He was tricking me into eating,” Ryou said.

“I would never trick you.” Bakura gasped. 

“How are you feeling, Ryou?” Malik asked.

“Okay at the moment. I think I'd like to walk around the gardens. Would you join me?” 

“Any excuse to be outside,” Malik said.

“I'll message Seto to meet us if he's available.” 

Ryou tapped at a wrist band that looked similar to their gaming straps, only functioned more like Malik’s cell phone. A holographic screen and keyboard appeared, and Ryou swiped a quick message with his finger.

“He said he'll find us. Shall we go?” 

“Um.” Bakura cleared his throat.

Malik turned toward him with a questioning gaze and Bakura thrust his hand into Malik's palm. Malik’s expression changed from curious, to surprised, to a tender, affectionate look as he laced their fingers together before walking forward. The leaves fluttered in the breeze as they walked. The leaves still held onto the warmth of summer, but Bakura knew they'd be dead in a few months. 

“Your birthday is coming up. Do you have any plans?” Malik asked Ryou. 

“I've never been good at planning for the future. The present always takes up all my thoughts.” 

“What would you like to do?”

“Could we perhaps play Monster World? I've been avoiding it because, well, I didn't want anyone to be sad while we played, but I love the game even now, and I don't blame it for what's happening.” 

“Of course we'll play.” Malik grinned, and Bakura knew he was thinking of Seto's present to Ryou and how much Ryou would love it.

Bakura didn't say the obvious, that _he_ should be blamed, not the game. Seto appeared a minute later with a wrapped box in his hand.

“Did you say Monster World?” He asked, slipping the box into Ryou's hands and kissing him.

“I usually am talking about some sort of RPG. What's this?” 

“A little I-love-you I made for you.” 

Ryou undid the box, careful to only pull at the tape instead of ripping the beautiful blue and silver wrapping paper. He pulled off the lid and peeked inside, gasping. 

“They’re beautiful.” Ryou held up the two figurines and displayed them to Malik and Bakura. They were a little half-dragon Ryou and dragon knight Seto. “These are our characters from our last campaign.”

“Handsome pair.” Malik grinned. 

“I made them myself because I know you prefer handmade presents.” Seto crossed his arms over his chest. 

“I love them!” Ryou clutched the figures to his chest. “I’ll put them in my display case as soon as we get back inside. By the way, I had half a milkshake, so stop worrying.” 

“That’s not food.” Seto’s right eye fluttered with a nervous tick. “But I’m glad you ate something.” 

“Oh let him eat ice cream and cake. What’s it going to hurt at this point?” Bakura scoffed. The gaze Seto sent him was murderous, but Bakura didn’t flinch. “Someone needs to say it out loud—some chicken soup isn’t going to keep him alive a single day longer, so let him enjoy life while he has it—ow! Malik!”

Bakura growled, rubbing the spot on his arm Malik had hit. He knew Malik felt the blow as well, but Malik’s furious stare didn’t show any hint of pain as he grabbed Bakura by the arm and dragged him away. 

“I swear to the gods, even when you’re trying your best you’re miserable to everyone.” 

“See y’guys tonight in the game room!” Bakura waived as Malik pulled him away. 

“You can be a little sensitive,” Malik scolded when they were out of earshot.” 

“Can I?” Bakura asked, his voice dry. “I’d rather be pragmatic. I would think Kaiba of all people could appreciate that.” 

“He doesn’t show it, but he’s hurting.”

“We’re all hurting. Ryou likes dessert.” 

“Fine. I’m not arguing that, but your delivery could have been better.” 

“I delivered the milkshake in a tall glass. I don’t see the problem.”

“You’re not stupid. Don’t be cute with my words to avoid having to stop and think that you could have handled something better than you did.” 

“Kaiba needs to think about it. Ryou didn’t eat for three days because Seto kept bringing him broth. Ryou. Likes. Dessert.” 

Malik stopped, staring at Bakura. His eyes flicked back toward the others; however, they’d already disappeared into the gardens. His shoulders slumped as he exhaled. 

“You have a point.” 

“Thank you.” Bakura snorted. Nonetheless, he grabbed Malik’s hand as they walked back toward the house. He stopped and searched around the stone slab in front of the door. 

“What are you doing?” Malik asked. 

“Searching for secret passages. I have about two dozen left to find.” 

In the rose bushes lining the mansion, Bakura found a false stone. He pressed on it and they heard a click to their right. 

“Oh, I haven’t seen this one,” Malik said. 

“You never found all of them?” Bakura asked. 

“They’re a little dark.” Malik gave Bakura a sheepish grin. “Not enough to keep me from using the practical shortcuts, but I’ve never tried to find everything.” 

“Shall we?” Bakura offered his arm. 

“Sure.” Malik linked arms with him. 

The walked over to where they heard the sound and noticed a spiral staircase leading into the darkness. Malik’s muscles twitched as he tightened up. Leaning over, Bakura placed a quick kiss onto Malik’s cheek before gesturing toward the thick shadows. Each stair lit a different color and Malik and Bakura themselves glowed bright white. 

“Thanks.” Malik pressed his nose against Bakura’s. 

“No problem. Let's go,” Bakura said.

They descended the steps. A hallway picked up where the stairs ended, but after a few minutes it divided into three pathways. 

“What if we get lost?” Malik asked.

“Diabound can go through earth and stone, so he can always bail us out if we’re in a pinch.” Bakura lead Malik through the right-most path. 

The hall wound like a serpent coiled around prey. In the center of the spiral was a room with a bioluminescent garden of mosses and lichen. A waterfall splashed into a small pool on the far wall, and a porch swing hung from two stalactites. 

“This is amazing.” Malik gasped.

“Shall we?” Bakura grinned and nudged Malik to the swing.

They sat side by side, arms brushing together as the swing rocked them back and forth. The roar of the water echoed around them, but otherwise they sat in silence. Bakura tinted the waterfall in a rainbow of colored lights. 

“It's gorgeous.” Malik grinned, his face glowing with ribbons of color from the water.

“Yes. You are,” Bakura whispered.

Malik turned away from the waterfall, gazing at Bakura instead. Bakura lidded his eyes and leaned forward. Their lips ghosted together, gentle and tender and the slightest bit hesitant. With a soft whimper, Malik deepened their kisses, adding passion and desire into each press of their lips.

Bakura’s fingers slipped under Malik’s shirt, nails grazing Malik’s ribs. Malik cradled the back of Bakura’s head. The colors shimmering from the waterfall tie-dyed their bodies. The air around them became a kaleidoscope as they continued to knead their mouths together. Bakura’s arms locked around Malik, the scars of Malik’s back rough against Bakura’s palms. Malik broke their kiss, panting. 

“Bakura,” Malik whispered.

“Yes?” 

“Spend the night. In my room. I don’t like thinking of you on the floor.” 

“The floor doesn't bother me,” Bakura said. 

“I’d rather you sleep in my arms.” Malik dragged their lips together again. 

Bakura moaned. Malik licked his bottom lip and Bakura’s eyes fluttered shut. His hands rubbed circles into Malik’s lower back. He knew exactly where to touch because he could feel it in his own back. They separated for air a second time. 

“Will you?”

Bakura nodded. He didn’t have words, but he made sure Malik knew he would. Malik celebrated Bakura’s answer by sucking against Bakura’s neck. Bakura squirmed, eyes lidded and hands restless. Malik pulled away again. 

“Let’s swim in the pond.” 

“Your clothes will get wet,” Bakura said.

“Not if we go skinny dipping.” Malik grinned. 

“Your shirt?” Bakura raised an eyebrow. 

“Yeah…” Malik looked down at his clothes, tugging the hem of his shirt in thought. “I haven’t yet, have I?” 

“I understand,” Bakura said. 

Malik glanced at the pool of water, cyan, magenta, lavender, emerald, and orange all cascaded down the fall and swirled into the bottom pool. Veins of gold and silver glittered between the other colors. The lavender shifted to orchid. The emerald paled to a bright jade. There were steaks of honey yellow and indigo as well as scarlet, sapphire, and opal. Bakura used every single color he could remember ever stealing from a Pharaoh as well as a few he remembered from Ryou’s paint set. 

Malik tugged his shirt over his shoulders. Standing up, he dropped his pants and stepped out of them. Bakura followed his lead, stripping bare and not mentioning Malik’s shirt again. The chill in the air sucked against his skin. Gooseflesh pucked along his arms and across his chest. Bakura hugged himself and shivered. 

“Gods, there are so many colors, Bakura. How do you keep them so bright without them blurring together?” 

Bakura shrugged. One may as well asked him how Diabound moved through stone. Malik dipped his big toe into the water, giggling as the light wavered around his foot. 

“Is it cold?” Bakura frowned. 

“Fuck yeah.” Malik laughed. “Only one thing to do when the water’s this cold.”

“Put our clothes back on?” Bakura smirked, knowing that wasn’t the answer. 

“Nope.” Malik jumped in the water. 

He burst back up in a spray of glowing color. Drops of tinted light clung to his hair and skin. 

“Holy fuck!” Malik shouted. “Jump in Bakura.” 

“How do you talk me into this crap?” Bakura jumped in. 

Light surrounded him. It flooding over his head and teased his hair. The second he was above the surface he yelped from the cold. 

“Why the fuck am I suffering through this? I’m fucking magic!” With a thought, Bakura envisioned a hot tub. Bubbles fizzed around them, and the water became almost steaming. 

“Oh fuck yes.” Malik dipped lower. “This feels so good against my back.” 

Bakura grinned, not only because his own muscles relaxed as the bubbles massaged their bodies, but because of the ecstasy on Malik’s face. Bakura stepped forward, close enough for their chests to bump together. He held Malik, smiling as he gazed into Malik’s eyes. Malik’s jaw went slack. His lips parted to ask a question, but Bakura didn’t give him the chance. He dipped Malik low, allowing the fizz of the water to concentrate around them, to massage Malik’s back like a hundred tiny fingers. Malik gasped, moaned, arched. He was lost in the moment, and Bakura was lost in the sight of him. 

Bakura brought Malik upright again, easing him beneath the waterfall. Light poured over their heads, drowning them in lapis lazuli, turquoise, and garnet tones. Malik combed his fingers through Bakura’s hair. 

“Bakura…” 

“Want to breathe underwater?”

“Sorta impossible.” 

“Bet I could make it possible.” Bakura pulled them down, down, down, beneath tangerine, rose quartz, and amethyst. 

He reduced the heat. It felt like diving into a glass of champagne, only brighter. Bakura kept his eyes open, his chest rising and falling with breath. He wasn’t even sure if they were truly submerged or if the light, color, and bubbles rose up to surround them, but it didn’t matter because Malik was there, staring at Bakura in a way that made Bakura’s stomach spin. Their lips found each other. Their tongues twined together as their fingers danced along their bodies. Bakura held Malik flush against his chest. The longer they kissed, the brighter the rest of the world glowed. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In today's chapter, we ignore our inevitable grief and distract ourselves with sexy thiefshipping smut and more awkward "married couple" bathroom humor. Enjoy!

“Ryou, you should have seen it. It was like those spy glasses, with the colors and shapes that change when you turn the base. Only we were inside of it. And then a miniature tornado dried us. It was fantastic.” Malik spoke between bites. He ate kushari, but Ryou had a plate of cream puffs in front of him that he nibbled on as he listened to Malik describe their adventure in the cave. 

“Now if you could do something practical with the amount of power you keep flaunting.” Seto scowled. 

Bakura wasn’t eating, nor was he paying attention to Seto’s acrid words. He was studying Ryou. All in all, everything Bakura did was to get better at manipulating reality—until he was good enough to pluck whatever bit of corrupted code loomed over Ryou’s head and debug it so Ryou could live the rest of his life, but no matter how Bakura reached out with his heka… he didn’t know what to do. 

There was… nothing. The fabric of reality didn’t seem to notice anything wrong with Ryou, and because of that, Bakura didn’t know how to help him. 

“Bakura?” Ryou looked at him. 

“I want one.” Bakura reached over and stole one of Ryou’s cream puffs. 

“Those are for Ryou.” Seto eyed Bakura’s fingers, his hand gripping his fork as if to stab Bakura’s hand. 

“Shared food tastes better.” Ryou laughed, shoving a cream puff into Seto’s mouth. 

The conversation dropped back to normal, and after they ate, they rejoined in the game room to play chess until Ryou fell asleep against Seto’s shoulder. Seto sighed when he noticed Ryou drop off. He caressed Ryou’s face and tucked a strip of hair behind Ryou’s ear. He lifted Ryou and placed him onto his flying carpet with the blanket wrapped around him before excusing them and pushing Ryou out of the game room. 

The moment Seto left, Malik jumped from his chair to Bakura’s lap. He toyed with Bakura’s earlobe for a second before whispering again his ear. 

“You ready for bed, too?” 

“As long as you weren’t thinking of going to sleep.” Bakura licked his lips. 

“As a matter of fact…” Malik toyed with the collar of Bakura’s shirt. “I’m not tired at all.” 

“Then let’s go to bed.” Bakura grinned. 

“Race you.” Malik distracted him with a long kiss before floating into the air and rushing to the bookcase in order to use the shortcuts through the mansion. 

Bakura flew after him, lighting the halls as they passed so Malik didn’t have to suffer the dimmer blue light. They didn’t bother with the elevator, instead floating up to the second floor and sneaking into Malik’s room like thieves.

“What’s with that grin? It’s extra cute.” Malik asked as he settled onto his mattress.

Bakura’s expression dropped. He didn’t like being called cute. Not only was it absurd—it made his belly hitch. Bakura floated closer to the bed, glaring down at Malik. 

“Now you look like a vampire in a movie.” 

“Or a dark spirit?” Bakura raised an eyebrow.

He tilted forward, hovering about eight centimeters above Malik’s face. Malik laughed and scratched his nose when Bakura’s hair dragged over him. It ruined the mood, but Bakura continued. 

“I was thinking if I were still a thief, and if you were still a tomb keeper, I would break into your chamber and steal you.” 

“Oh yeah?” Malik lidded his eyes. “What if there were traps?” 

“Traps have never been able to stop me.” Bakura reached out, drawing the shape of Malik’s bottom lip. 

Malik gasped, eyes dropping a little lower. “And guards?” 

“I’d knock them all unconscious and laugh as I slipped by.” 

“What if I were buried 100 kilometers below ground?” 

“Diabound can move through solid stone.” He cupped Malik’s cheek. “Nothing would stop me.” 

“Bakura,” Malik gasped, pulling Bakura down to him. 

Their lips bumped together. Their hands shook as they caressed each other’s sides. Malik twined his fingers around Bakura’s hair as Bakura smoothed a finger across Malik’s collarbone. Malik rolled them so they both lay on their sides but faced each other. 

They didn’t speak. Instead, Bakura traced the hollow of Malik’s throat with the side of his thumb. Malik responded by teasing his fingers up and down Bakura’s shoulders. They dragged their fingers along each others arms, and laced their fingers together. 

Bakura’s eyes closed. Instinct drove him. Malik’s tongue dabbed along Bakura’s lips and he opened his mouth, reaching out with his own tongue to meet Malik’s. 

“Mmmm… Bakura,” Malik moaned against Bakura’s lips as they gasped for breath. 

“Malik.” Bakura released their fingers so he could slide a hand over Malik’s hip and to his back. 

As they kissed, he rubbed the spot in Malik’s lower back that caused him the most trouble. Malik moaned again, squirming against Bakura’s gentle circles. He grew impatient, slipped his hands beneath Bakura’s shirt and exploring the curves of his body. The pads of Malik’s fingers dragged across Bakura’s nipples, and Bakura grunted as a hum danced through his nerves. Malik twisted Bakura’s nipples and deepened their kisses.

Bakura couldn’t stand it any longer. He gripped the hem of his shirt and tugged it off, dropping it somewhere behind him. Malik copied him. Bakura stared at Malik’s broad chest and at his face. 

“You sure?” 

Malik nodded, lips plump from arousal and friction, eyes blown out, cheeks dusted with a hint of color fighting through his spiced complexion. Bakura reached out. He wrote symbols along the curves of Malik’s chest. 

“Casting a spell on me?” Malik chuckled. 

“Maybe.” Bakura kissed Malik’s sternum. 

“Hope it’s a virility spell.” Malik flashed a coy grin. 

“Maybe.” Bakura gave a single-shouldered shrug. 

He swirled his fingers down Malik’s belly, meandering toward his belt-line. Malik held Bakura’s wrists. 

“Oh no you don’t. You really have to tell me.” 

“It was nothing.” Bakura frowned. 

“You are too powerful with magic, and I know damn well it wasn’t _nothing_. I want to know exactly what you did.”

“Still don’t trust me?” Bakura rolled onto his back, looking away. 

“I’ve always trusted you.” Malik pulled Bakura onto his side again, cupping his face again.

“Liar,” Bakura said. 

“No.” Malik shook his head. “It’s not a lie, but sometimes I trust you to be an awful fuck.” 

Bakura laughed. He couldn’t deny how right Malik was. He pressed his forehead to Malik’s warm chest. 

“It was a protection spell, all right? It wards against diseases. It was one of the ones I learned from your tome.” 

“Bakura.” Malik combed through his hair. 

Bakura’s breath hitched as Malik shoved him on his back again, fumbling with the zipper of Bakura’s pants. He kissed the hip bones poking on each side of the pouch of Bakura’s belly. Bakura eased upward, clawing at the sheets. 

“I want you,” Malik whispered. 

Bakura’s fingers skimmed Malik’s ribs. He leaned up and kissed Malik’s bicep and shoulder, anywhere he could reach. Bakura kicked his pants away. Malik tugged his off and flung them to the side. 

Bare, they slid their cocks together. Bakura whimpered and grabbed Malik’s ass, encouraging him to rut faster against Bakura’s body. Malik held Bakura’s hips, sucking against Bakura’s throat until Bakura was wailing. He pulled away with a loud pop of his lips, whispering into Bakura’s ear. 

“I _want_ you.” 

Bakura looked at Malik, dazed. His hands roamed all over. Grabbing his ass, the back of his thighs, his hips, his chest, Bakura couldn’t get enough of the feel of Malik’s body. He bucked up. Malik’s face twisted in pleasure as their cocks rubbed together. His raw desire radiated through their connection. Bakura dug his nails lightly into the meat of Malik’s ass, hiking up again. Malik called out, pinning Bakura against the mattress by his shoulders. He slipped down enough to prod Bakura’s entrance with his cockhead. Bakura sucked in a hard breath, spreading his legs. 

“Bakura—I want you—I want you—I want to be inside you. It’s driving me crazy.” 

Bakura’s mouth dropped open. He nodded, giving Malik permission to do as he pleased. Relief washed over Malik’s face as he drew a languid kiss from Bakura’s mouth. Bakura’s heartbeat thrashed against his ribcage. He wrapped his legs around Malik’s waist. Because of their link, Bakura felt the pressure of Malik nudging against his asshole from both his and Malik’s perspective. Bakura grunted, eager for Malik to slide in and _move_. 

“Wait, uh, hold on.” Malik wiggled out of Bakura’s hold, scrabbling for the closet where he kept his matching treasure chest. 

Malik pulled out a bottle of lube and a wide plug. Bakura swallowed, eyes transfixed on Malik’s hands as he doused the toy. Malik’s thistle-colored eyes glanced at Bakura. He waited for Bakura to nod again before easing the toy into his ass. Bakura held his breath at the first jolt of being spread open. Malik kissed around Bakura’s thighs and shaft before he eased the base of the plug in and out. 

“ _Mmmm_ , I can feel it, too.” Malik bit his bottom lip. 

Instinct drove Malik to hinge back into a toy that wasn’t inside him. He moved the plug a little faster and sighed. Bakura hooked his arms around the back of his thighs, closing his eyes and huffing quick breaths. Malik pushed the toy in one last time, circling and teasing a moment before pulling it out and setting it on the side. 

Malik lubed his cock. Bakura watched as Malik’s thick pillar of flesh gleamed in the ambient light of the room. In Battle City Malik’s stomach had been flat as a trading card, but age had given him a slight belly, and the muscle across his broad chest was soft instead of cut. Bakura wanted to kiss every centimeter of it. He wanted to coil around Malik like a snake and squeeze him, savoring the way Malik’s body fit between his thighs. 

“Malik,” Bakura growled, greedy for them to begin. 

“I am,” Malik snapped. 

He held his cock and guided to Bakura entrance. Bakura groaned as Malik taunted the rim of Bakura’s ass, but then he pushed inside and Bakura felt his guts loop-de-loop. They both moaned. Malik rested on his forearms as they caught their breath. Used to toys, being penetrated by Malik was a familiar feeling, only warmer, so much warmer, Bakura wasn’t sure why they hadn’t tried this months ago. 

“ _Kura_ ,” Malik whispered against Bakura’s chest as he eased back and forward again. 

“ _Fuckyess—fuckyess—fuckyess—”_ Bakura chanted with each thrust. 

“Need cock rings,” Malik muttered. “I can’t—” 

Bakura arched his back and squeezed, knowing neither one of them were going to last. The feeling of Malik inside him alone was enough to make come explode all over the bed, but the fact that he could feel how tight and hot his own ass was around Malik’s cock at the same time drove Bakura out of his mind. 

“Bakura. Bakura. Bakura. Bakura—kura—kura— _kuraaah!”_

Malik sped up, thrashing into Bakura’s asshole. Bakura writhed beneath him. He didn’t need to be stroked. He came the second Malik came inside him. 

“That was…” the sentence trailed away as Malik gasped for breath. 

“Yeah,” Bakura agreed. 

“You’re staying, right?” Malik asked, a flash of panic in his eyes. 

Bakura wrapped both arms and legs around Malik’s body, accidentally smearing the mess all over his stomach, but Malik didn’t complain. 

“I told you I’d stay the night,” Bakura whispered, squirming a little at how sticky and sweat-damp he was. “Need a shower, though.” 

“I probably should, too. I have ointment I use on my back at night.” 

“You can go first,” Bakura muttered, tempted to fall asleep as he was and worry about the mess in the morning. 

“It’s big enough for two.” Malik poked at Bakura’s chest. 

With a grin, Bakura sat up. They took turns beneath the hot shower jets. Bakura felt like he needed to use the toilet, but after his shower, he sat down and nothing happened. Malik laughed as he rubbed cream onto his scars. 

“Shut-up.” Bakura turned away so Malik couldn’t see him blush. 

“It’s only funny because I can feel it, too. I’m sorry.”

“Didn’t have this problem with the toys, you’re so damn thick,” Bakura grumbled, giving up and washing his hands. 

“Thank you.” Malik turned down the blankets and crawled beneath them. 

“Ha, you would just take the compliment.” Bakura crawled into bed beside him. 

“I’m going to shop for cock rings.” Malik grabbed his cellphone and brought up his favorite online toy store, scanning through the various colors and styles and reading reviews. 

“This is obscenely domestic.” Bakura watched the images flash through the air. 

“There’s nothing wrong with domestic,” Malik said. 

“I should be playing a Shadow Game with the Pharaoh right now.” Bakura hooked his arms over Malik’s chest. “Not laying in bed and watching you shop online.” 

“Are you unhappy?” Malik set his phone to the side and turned to face Bakura. Bakura shook his head. 

“No, I’m here, and… I like it.” Bakura frowned. “So much so that I feel guilty, like I’m doing the wrong thing.” 

“That makes sense.” Malik kissed Bakura’s forehead. 

“That’s it? You’re not going to yell at me for being a maladjusted asshole? Or tell me that I should be grateful? Or even accuse me of ruining the moment we just had?” 

“The moment where you sat on the toilet for five minutes because you were constipated?” Malik laughed. 

“Malik. Dammit.” 

“I went through the same thing, after the Ceremonial Duel when we were officially free of our tomb-keeper duties. I always felt like I should be _doing_ something. _Atoning_ somehow. Maybe that’s how I let Ryou talk me into some of the projects we did. At first I was filling time and trying to ease the guilt, but the more we worked together, the better friends we became, the more I realized that I wanted to do the projects for the sake of them and not as a half-assed apology for killing my father.”

“I don’t know why you ever felt bad about protecting yourself from him.”

“It’s complicated.” Malik finished his order and put his phone aside. “I spent so much time blaming the Pharaoh, and when I found out I was the one to blame, all that hatred moved over to myself and my other half. It wasn’t until I went to therapy that I was able to even broach the anger I had with my father.”

“Not the therapy talk again.” Bakura shoved the pillow over his head. 

“I’m not trying to make you go.” Malik pulled the pillow away. “I was talking about myself. You can make your own decisions about it when you’re ready.” 

“How the hell am I supposed to talk about my village? Being trapped in the Ring? Zorc?”

“Ryou’s therapist already knows about most of those topics.”

“How the hell is Ryou not in a mental hospital?” 

“Kaiba has a lot of money.” 

Bakura gave a single, humorless laugh. Malik knotted his arms around Bakura. Bakura lay on his side so he could feel Malik’s chest press against him. He sighed, eyes closing, body relaxing. 

“Maybe one day I’ll think about it. I’m still trying to work it out enough in my own head for now.” 

“We have time,” Malik murmured against Bakura’s shoulder, squeezing him harder.

Bakura smiled. The world around him seemed trivial compared to the world created by Malik’s embrace. Bakura overlay his hand on top of Malik’s. He fell asleep wrapped up in Malik’s arms. A light sleeper, he stayed aware of the embrace well into the night. Even when Bakura shifted onto his back, Malik slung an arm over Bakura’s chest and squeezed. By the heavy breathing, Bakura knew Malik was sleeping, and something about Malik holding him so tightly even when he wasn’t awake made Bakura feel like perhaps he shouldn’t be fighting in Shadow Games afterall. Perhaps he really _did_ belong exactly where he was. 

The next morning, Bakura stole Malik’s phone so he could read while sitting on the toilet. Any soreness he had from the night before was gone and he had better luck. Malik stumbled into the bathroom, moisturizing and applying his khol before brushing his hair. 

“I slept really well last night,” Malik said. 

“So did I.” Bakura kept his eyes on the Duel Monsters article he was reading, only half paying attention to Malik. 

“What are you doing today?”

“I don’t know. I’ve learned all the spells in your notebook. I know how to create my own… there’s not much left to do.” Bakura set the phone aside, finishing up and nudging Malik away from the sink so he could wash his hands. 

“I’m sorry, Bakura. I know you thought—”

“I haven’t given up… I need to think about it for a bit.” 

“Want to finish hunting for the last of the mansion’s secrets while you think? We only examined two of the three passages we found yesterday.” 

“Let’s drag Ryou with us. He needs to get out of his room.” 

“Good idea. Now give me back my phone. It’s my turn to use the toilet.”

“I’m going to stand in front of you and stare the entire time.” Bakura snorted. 

“Won’t bother me a bit.” Malik grinned as he sat down. 

Bakura hunched with his hands resting on his knees. He stared at Malik, only a few centimeters from Malik’s face. Malik ignored him, moving his phone to the side so he could read without Bakura’s face getting in the way of the projection. A long minute passed in silence. Malik’s eyes flicked back at Bakura who hadn’t moved from his spot in front of Malik. Another ten seconds ticked by, slow, slow, slow, slow, slow— 

They erupted in laughter, neither able to last a moment longer. 

“You’re such a dork!” Malik shoved at Bakura. 

“You started this challenge.” 

“I didn’t get right in your personal space, though.” 

“Fine, fine. I’m going to get some clothes. The nice thing about the hidden hallways is that I can fly around naked without anyone seeing me.” 

“Have you been doing that?” Malik laughed again. 

“No, but now I’ve thought about it, so I’m going to start.” Bakura floated to the blue tile on the mosaic to open the elevator door. 

“Come back when you’re dressed!” Malik called from the bathroom. 

Bakura floated back to the door frame, peeking into the bathroom. “Why? Will you miss me?”

“I can’t until you go.” Malik shooed him away. 

Bakura chuckled as he flew to the elevator shaft and dropped to the first floor. It took a little longer to get to his room through all the passages—the most direct route involved a shortcut through the main hall—and while Bakura wasn’t opposed to scandalizing a maid or two, he was still searching for the last few unfound secrets and the longer path gave him more opportunity to explore. In his room, Bakura shoved several toiletries, his favorite vibraitor, and clothing into a pillowcase. Slinging it over his shoulder, Bakura flew back to Malik’s room. 

“You’re still naked,” Malik said when he saw Bakura. 

“So?”

“We’re going to be late for breakfast.” 

“Ryou will be sleeping, we’ll take breakfast to him.” Bakura unpacked his clothes. 

“Why so many things?” Malik asked. 

He gave Malik a look, one that said _you know damn well why_. Malik gave Bakura a guilty grin and shrugged. 

“Okay… I’ll clean out a drawer for you while you dress. Hurry up, though. I want breakfast.”

“I’m halfway dressed already. Why are you rushing me?”

“Because I know it takes you three thousand years to finish a project.” 

“Bold of you to assume it won’t take me five thousand to finish that specific project.” 

“Eh, the afterlife is real. You technically have eternity to second-death Atem. Actually, why not Akhenaden?” Malik’s expression fell from joking to serious in an instant. 

“What?”

“If you really want vengeance, why are you even after Atem? It makes more sense to go after Akhenaden’s soul.” 

“I’m sure Ammit ate that vile fuck by now—why did you just wince?” Bakura glared at Malik. 

“Nothing.” 

“Malik.”

“I’m… _pretty sure_ I saw Akhenaden’s spirit greet Atem with the rest of the royal court after the Ceremonial Duel.” 

“Then apparently the rich can add debans to the scale beside Ma’at’s feather before their heart is weighed because there’s _no fucking way_.” 

“I know.” 

“He was _literally Zorc’s Shadow Priest_. I was already dead when Atem gave up his name and shattered the Puzzle. I got that part of the story from Zorc!” Bakura threw his hands into the air. 

“I know.” Malik sighed. 

“First you tell me all this nonsense about an 8th Millennium Item and now _this_?” 

“I know.” 

“You know whose fault this is?” Bakura paced across the bedroom. 

“The Pharaoh’s?” Malik smirked. 

“Damn right the Pharaoh’s!” Bakura shouted. “Think about it. When a Pharaoh ascends, he becomes one with Osiris, so obviously Akhenamkhanen gave his brother a free pass— _while my fucking family suffered_.”

“I know.” Malik flung his arms around Bakura, crushing him. 

“I’m fine.” Bakura growled against the crook of Malik’s neck. 

“You don’t have to be.”

“I’m so pissed off.” Bakura clutched at Malik’s shirt. “They deserved better. People deserve better. What’s the point of even trying to be decent if it’s the same shit in the afterlife? I can’t bare this!” 

“Nothing I do is for the gods,” Malik said. 

“When I die, I am finding my family, and I swear to any and all gods that if they’re not happy I’m stealing a horse and riding to the palace, and I will fight them for eternity if I have to. This can’t be how existence works. It isn’t fair,” Bakura said. “It isn’t fair, it isn’t _right_.” 

“I’ll join you,” Malik said. 

“Ha! Thought you wanted me to settle down?” Bakura snorted, face still smashed against Malik. 

“Who am I to say who gets to go to the Fields? Do I really deserve it? Being a decent person now doesn’t excuse all the people I hurt and murdered when I ran the Ghouls, so I’m not going to be bitter about Akhenaden.” Malik stepped back, holding Bakura’s shoulders. “However, if I pass my weighing, and the gates to the afterlife open, and I see my ancestors underground? You know damn well I’m stealing a khopesh and cutting the heads off of every god in the Tribunal. I’ll show them a terror they haven’t known since Sekhmet ravaged the lands.” 

“ _That’s_ the Malik I’ve been missing.” Bakura grabbed the back of Malik’s head, kissing him. “Let’s destroy heaven together.” 

“It’s a date.” Malik tugged at one of the horns of hair growing from Bakura’s mane. “First we should find a way to beat Seto and Ryou in a duel.” 

“That’s easy. All we have to do is stop fighting for five minutes and actually fight them.” 

“On second thought, let’s work on a more attainable goal and get breakfast.” 

“You have a good point.” 

Their fingers laced together as they walked down the hallway. They found their breakfast waiting for them in the dining room, Seto already gone to work. Bakura stole a serving cart and wheeled their food to Ryou’s bedroom. 

Ryou was a small lump curled beneath a stack of quilts and feather-down comforters. Malik opened the window and Bakura sat on the bed and shook Ryou’s shoulder. Ryou’s eyes fluttered open, glazed and unfocused. The circles beneath his eyes were darker. Bakura couldn’t imagine how they could be darker, but they were. Ryou’s hair, once smooth and sleek, was a brittle tangle around his cheeks. Bakura reached toward the vanity across the room, willing the brush to appear in his hand. 

“Wake up, Ryou. We want to go adventuring today.” 

“Tired,” Ryou murmured with a faint voice. 

“I know,” Bakura said. He thought about the conversation he’d had with Malik moments ago. How Malik kept saying _I know_ over and over. 

Bakura sighed, holding the ends of Ryou’s hair and combing from the bottom so the brushing wouldn’t hurt. Ryou rubbed at his eyes, groaning. Malik sat on the bed as well, focusing on Bakura’s hands as they worked their way up Ryou’s mop of hair, but avoiding Ryou directly. 

“Did I ever tell you about the time Thoth stole an oasis?” Bakura asked Ryou. 

“No?” Ryou blinked at Bakura, the fog in his eyes lifting at the thought of one of Bakura’s stories. 

“There was this oasis, you see. More beautiful than any other one in Egypt. It was surrounded by fig trees and the lake was filled with blue lotuses as beautiful as Malik’s eyes.” Bakura winked at Malik before turning back to Ryou’s hair. 

“And Thoth saw the oasis and wanted to bathe in it, so he flew down as an ibis and stood in the shallows, dipping his head into the water and letting the cool droplets roll down his feathered back. Now Set happened to notice Thoth enjoying himself in the water and wanted to fuck with him. So he sends a freezing wind to the oasis and makes the temperature drop like—” Bakura snapped his fingers. “It got so cold so fast that the lake froze solid with Thoth’s legs thigh-deep in the water. The shock of the chill was so bad that Thoth spread his wings and took off into the air—carrying the entire lake with him.” 

“You’re so stupid.” Malik shook his head, his voice coarse but affectionate. 

“It’s a true story. Saw it myself. I was taking a nap under a fig tree when it all went down. I heard he flew all the way to Nubia before the water melted and he returned to Lower Egypt.” 

“I believe you,” Ryou said.

“See? Ryou knows I’m telling the truth.” Bakura gathered up Ryou’s brushed hair and divided it up into sections, braiding it. 

“What’s for breakfast?” Ryou asked. 

“Cold bacon and waffles.” Bakura slung the braid over Ryou’s shoulder. “We’re sharing, right?”

“I get the waffle you get the bacon?” A sly smile crept over Ryou’s lips. 

“That’s the way I would divide it.” Bakura grabbed his plates off the cart. He cut a sliver of waffle for himself and stuck one slice of bacon onto the plate and handed Ryou his portion. 

“You said we’re going on an adventure today?” Ryou’s bite was small, not the sort of bite he’d usually take from a waffle. 

“We have one more tunel underground to explore at the three way fork,” Malik said, eating tempeh bacon instead of pork. 

“Ah yes, today might be the day Bakura finds the last of my secrets.” 

“Took him long enough.” Malik snorted. 

“What can I say? I’m lazy.” 

They all knew that wasn’t the reason, but they teased him for it anyway. After breakfast, Malik and Bakura loaded Ryou onto his rug and the three set out to explore the rest of the mansion. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire chapter makes me clutch at my chest. Enjoy!!

Ryou slept. Bakura stood on one side of the carpet and Malik stood on the other. They each rested a hand on the border, making sure Ryou didn’t roll over and fall in his sleep. They met Seto in the hallway near the game room. 

“I think we wore him out,” Malik said. 

“I watched on the cameras.” Seto nodded. “It was good to watch him eat a sandwich.” 

“You don’t have to be a voyeur to the fun. You can actually join us. You know, spend time with your damn husband.” Bakura’s jaw clenched. 

“I do spend time with him.” Seto scowled. 

“Of course you do,” Malik spoke before Bakura could comment. “Although… I’m sure Mokuba could handle things if you _did_ want to take some time off—”

“The medical scanner I’m designing is almost complete. Once we get finish our final tests—” 

“Seto.” Malik sighed. “We’ve gone over this. It’s not really Ryou dying, it’s the spell that brought him back to life fading. Science can’t fix—”

“If I’ve learned _anything_ over the years it’s that there’s _no_ significant difference between magic and science. Electromagnetic energy is electromagnetic energy. It’s all about manipulating it to your will.”

“That’s all good and fine,” Bakura cut in, “but I don’t think Ryou should be alone. Haven’t you notice he perks up when we’re around?” 

“That’s exactly why you’re still here or I would have given you a passport to get rid of you months ago.” Seto grit his teeth. 

“Jokes on you—I would have stayed anyway.” Anger flared up in Bakura’s chest. Malik placed a calming hand on Bakura’s shoulder, but Bakura shrugged it away. “But it’s not my and Malik’s place. _You_ need to be spending more time with him.” 

“Every second I’m not working, I—” 

“Not good enough. Stay with him until after breakfast. Make sure you’re home well before dinner. Dammit, Seto! You can’t just bury your grief in your work like his father did—” 

Bakura dodged the jab, but Seto followed with a hook and nailed Bakura in the jaw. Bakura slammed against the floor, tasting blood. Part of him relished the throb until he noticed Malik spitting blood onto the carpet as well. 

“How… fucking… _dare_ … you…” Seto loomed over Bakura. 

Bakura spat blood onto Seto’s white suit. His hands curled into fists, but he stayed in place because he didn’t want Malik feeling the blows. 

“I know it’s a hard pill to swallow, but somebody has to say the shit you don’t want to hear. Cuz if _I’m thinking it_ , Ryou has to be thinking it as well. Hit me if it makes you feel better. I can heal bruises, but so far everything I’ve done to heal Ryou has _failed_ , just like all your medical bullshit has _failed_ , so you better spend whatever time we have left _making Ryou happy_ , because no matter how much you hate yourself now for your failure—you’ll hate yourself a thousand times more if you watch him die on a screen instead of standing by him and holding his hand.” 

“You two fighting again?” Ryou murmured, struggling to wake up. 

“I’m sorry.” Seto hunched over the carpet and held Ryou. 

“Seto? When did you get here?”

Bakura wiped the injuries from his face before Ryou could see his swollen jaw or bit lip. He touched Malik’s cheek, silently asking if he were all right. Malik nodded and they stood up together. 

“We found the Diorama room,” Bakura said. 

“On no, I’ve been out of it for that long? I wanted to see your face when you saw it.” 

“ _Heh_ , it was pretty cool, and don’t think I didn’t notice you restored Kul Elna in the ancient Egyptian world.” 

“Of course I did. I wanted everyone to be happy, even if just in my tiny world.” Ryou yawned. “Anyone up for a game?” 

“You should go to sleep.” Malik tugged at the base of Ryou’s braid. 

“We can play something tomorrow,” Seto said. “All of us.”

“Is tomorrow Sunday? I thought it was only Friday.” Ryou frowned. 

“You’re right, but I’m going to take the day off.” 

“Seto? Are you okay? You’re not sick, are you?” Ryou’s mouth dropped in surprise. 

“No.” He laughed, brushing a stray strand of loose hair away from Ryou’s face. “But I miss you.” 

Ryou threw his arms around Seto in a hug. Malik nudged Bakura with his elbow and Bakura nodded. 

“We’ll see both of you tomorrow.” Malik waved as they started down the hallway to give Ryou and Seto some privacy. 

“Goodnight!” Ryou called. 

Bakura answered with a brief wave and wandered down the hallways with Bakura walking beside him. 

“I want to stay in your room tonight.” Bakura didn’t look at Malik. 

“I was hoping you would.” Malik stopped and leaned his head on Bakura’s shoulder. “I need to go for a ride. It’s been awhile. Want to come?” 

Bakura nodded. He realized that Malik had already been walking them toward the garage where he kept his motorcycle. He’d had a helmet fitted for Bakura months ago, bought him a red leather riding jacket, and taught Bakura passenger etiquette. Bakura kept his feet on the pegs, didn’t hold on too tightly, nor did he try to steer the bike. That was the hardest part, letting go completely and letting Malik steer them. Nevertheless, the cold air rejuvenated Bakura as they sped through the dusk-gilded streets. Anyone could guess that Malik loved motorcycles because of their connections to freedom, but Malik _rode_ in a way that made Bakura feel liberated as well. They sped so far and so fast that the past which always haunted him dropped behind him, where it belonged. It would catch up again, at the mansion where everything was still, but for the moment… Bakura was free with his hands resting on Malik’s hips. He realized their ka would work better together if Bakura allowed them to fight in the same way he and Malik rode. 

Malik stopped the bike at a lookout point curving up a hill. They dismounted, dropped their helmets near their feet, and leaned against the safety railing, staring at the Domino City lights below them. 

“I love coming here at night.” Malik broke the silence. 

“Looks like a pile of fancy, electric jewels begging to be shoved into a sack and stolen,” Bakura said. 

“You would think of it like that.”

“Yeah? How do you think of it?”

“Stars scattered across the ground.” 

“Yeah, stars are okay if you’re into that sort of thing.” 

“You greedy little thief, thinking of nothing but treasure.” Malik reached inside Bakura’s jacket and tickled his ribs. 

They both laughed and squirmed, but Malik didn’t stop until he was gasping with tears lining his eyes. Bakura propped his elbows on the rail, resting the small of his back against the metal as he gazed up at the real stars. 

“Hey Malik?”

“Hmm?”

“After Ryou…” Bakura’s throat tightened. Unable to say the truth, he chose a lie instead. “After he gets better, you’ll go back home, won’t you?” 

“Yeah. It’s fun here, but I miss everyone. Why?” Malik stood in front of Bakura, grabbing the rail and angling so he hovered above Bakura’s face. “Did you want me to promise to visit you after I leave?” 

“I don’t want you to leave,” Bakura whispered, only able to bear the truth about his feelings for Malik because they were less painful than the truth about Ryou dying. “Or if you do, I don’t want to leave _you_.” 

“Bakura…” Malik sank closer, their lips all but brushing together. 

“Malik,” Bakura shut his eyes, mouthing _I love you_ against Malik’s lips. 

Despite not saying the words out loud, Malik understood. Bakura knew Malik understood by the way Malik held him and kissed him the moment Bakura formed the shape of the words with his mouth. Bakura reached up, caressing Malik’s cheek. He broke their kiss when he felt Malik’s tears wetting his fingertips. 

“Malik?” 

“You were telling the truth.” Malik turned away, swiping at his eyes. 

“Let’s go.” Bakura reached down and picked up his helmet.

What could he say? Of course Malik was shocked. It’s what Bakura got for lying at every opportunity. 

“Wait.” Malik cleared his throat. “I didn’t mean—” 

“You don’t have to explain.” Bakura shook his head. 

Malik grabbed the lapel of Bakura’s jacket and jerked him close again. Bakura stared into Malik’s gaze. They didn’t speak. Malik traced his fingers along the curves of Bakura’s face, as if looking at him for the first time in years. Bakura studied the lines crinkling in the corners of Malik’s eyes. Malik’s body heat soaked through the areas of Bakura not covered by the warm leather jacket, but Malik trembled.

Bakura closed his eyes the moment Malik kissed him. The helmet dropped from Bakura’s hold. He coiled his arms around Malik’s neck, keeping their bodies locked together and their tongues twined. Dizzy, Bakura righted himself, sucking in deep breaths. 

“I’m so pissed off,” Malik whispered. 

“What’d I do _this time_?” Bakura wiped his mouth dry. 

“You made me fall in love.” Malik’s voice was higher pitched, emotional. 

Bakura stood on his toes so he could press his forehead against Malik’s. He gave Malik’s riding jacket a playful tug. 

“Sucks to be you. Let’s go back.” 

This time, Malik nodded and they fastened their helmets. The ride home was leisurely. In the mansion they walked side by side. 

“Hungry? I have snacks in my room.” 

“We skipped dinner, didn’t we?”

“Ryou’s a bad influence.” 

“You go raid your snack hoard, and I’m going to take a bath.” 

Bakura skipped his room in favor of visiting the kitchen. He stole a bottle of champagne, two glasses, and a plate heaped with grapes, kiwi, strawberries, cheese, and salami. On the way back to Malik’s room, Bakura recovered a box of pocky and the fifth volume of the manga he’d been reading. He tossed the book on top of Malik’s bed, slipped into his bathrobe, and carried the rest to the bathroom. 

Malik lay in the tub, surrounded by dark pink water and bubbles. Bakura smelled jasmine and something herbal scenting the water. 

“Smells good.” 

“It’s called a sex bomb.” Malik laughed. “Used to think the name was hilarious.” 

“Used to? What about now? You’re laughing.” 

“Now I think it’s false advertising. This isn’t half as good as a night with you.” 

“Do you eat cheese?” Bakura teased the threads of gold hair dangling from Malik’s bun. 

“Sometimes.”

“Tonight?” 

Malik glanced over his shoulder, noticing the plate. 

“Sure.” 

Bakura popped a cube into Malik’s mouth, taking a slice of salami for himself. He opened the champagne, licking foam from his wrists.

“What’s the celebration?” Malik asked. 

“It’s Thursday. I found all the secrets in the mansion. Ryou ate a sandwich. Take your pick.” He handed Malik a glass and poured one for himself. 

“You know this was probably for something if it was pre cut like this.” 

“Not my problem.” Bakura sipped from his glass.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you get off on raising Seto’s blood pressure.” 

“Sorry about the punch earlier.” Bakura fed Malik a grape. 

“You were doing the right thing. Problem is, you were doing it in the most assholish Bakura way possible.” 

“It’s my specialty.” Bakura tasted a slice of kiwi.

“Feed me another grape.” Malik leaned back and closed his eyes. 

“Quit being demanding.” Bakura tapped the grape against Malik’s lips before dropping it into his mouth. 

Malik smiled as he chewed. He leaned forward in order to sip from his champagne flute and reclined again. Bakura nibbled on various things from the plates, feeding Malik the same bits except the salami. They didn’t speak, and Bakura didn’t mind the quiet. He was still mulling over Ryou’s condition. 

“The problem is, he’s not sick.” 

“Huh?” Malik sat up and opened his eyes. He finished the champagne and stole another cube of cheese. 

“Ryou. If he had a virus, I could get rid of it. If he had cancer, I could make the cells go back to normal. If his heart was weak, I could rebuild it, but nothing’s really wrong with him. He’s simply… I’d say winding down, but that would imply there was a wind up mechanism, and if it were that easy I’d have cured him by now.” 

“We all would have.” Malik sighed. 

“That’s why I know Seto’s medical scanner won’t find anything. There’s literally nothing wrong with him.” 

“Except the fact that he’s dying.” Malik gripped the edge of the tub. 

“Of course.” 

“How do you know nothing’s wrong with him?” Malik asked. 

Bakura thought about his reply. “Magic, the way I do it… it’s like reading braille. You can reach out and touch it, feel it, but you have to figure out what the little bumps mean to make any sense of it. Which is why most people use spell books. They’re translations to the code, but if you _know_ the code, you don’t need a translation.” 

“But how did you figure out the code?” Malik pulled the plug and grabbed a towel. 

“The same way I figured out how to hack Seto’s game.” Bakura shrugged. 

“I still don’t know how you managed to do that either—although I enjoy the unlimited cash and lockpicks.” 

“You... “ Bakura waved a hand around. He really didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about. “You just feel it out, and you do it. Maybe coming back from the dead gave me an advantage. Your guess is as good as mine.” 

“I always had to study everything so carefully, and Ryou would glance at things and know how they worked. I was jealous.” Malik smiled at his own memories. 

“Luonazun put what was left of his soul back into his body, but you both had to create a new body for me.” Bakura stared at the last pink trails of water swirling down the drain. Again, Ryou’s body was fine, just as it had been the first time it died, it was his soul’s connection that was slipping away, but Bakura wasn’t sure how to call it back. 

“Let’s go sit down where it’s more comfortable.” Malik grabbed the bottle and Bakura followed him with the plate and their glasses. 

Malik poured a second round for them both, draining the bottle. They sat in chairs next to a small table near the largest window in Malik’s room. Only a shade of the night scenery appeared in front of them. Malik kept his room bright, so the glass reflected their own images back at them. 

“I’m scared,” Malik said, gnawing on a grape from nerves more than hunger. 

“For Ryou?”

“I accepted Ryou was dying a long time ago. What I fear is when he does, you’ll go off on some sort of tirade to bury your grief, and I’ll be mourning you and Ryou both.” Malik shot a glance at Bakura. His eyes flashed, tear-filled but not spilling over. “In your mind, isn’t this also the Pharaoh’s fault? If it wasn’t for him, you would have never possessed Ryou, or played that RPG, or lost enough to cheat with mind-washed dice, so Ryou wouldn’t have had to—”

“I get it,” Bakura hissed. “I’m vengeful garbage. I _get it_.” 

“Well, you asshole, you said you loved me a few hours ago.” Malik blinked, sniffed, and tears rolled down his cheeks. “And I wish you’d been lying because then I could suspend my disbelief, enjoy the moment, and be depressed but eventually get over it once you took off again, but you _meant it_. I’ve never heard you mean anything so much before.” 

Bakura snorted, staring at their reflections because it was easier than staring at Malik directly. Malik continued. 

“And I get it. Vengeance was _it_. It was your everything. And the only reason you didn’t run off after we brought you back was because you found out Ryou was dying so you decided to help. And honestly? That’s better than any of us (except Ryou) gave you credit for.” Malik shook his head. “So it makes sense that once Ryou’s gone, you won’t have a reason not to pick up where you left off, but Bakura, I _can’t_. I have siblings, nieces, nephews, I promised Ryou I would watch sunrises for him. I have to live, and I can’t run off and destroy myself no matter how much it hurts.” 

“I didn’t ask you to,” Bakura snapped. 

“Never said you did.” Malik swiped at his cheeks. “Said I’m scared.” 

Bakura stood, walked around to face Malik, and crouched in front of him. He pulled out his pocket knife and slipped the handle into Malik’s hands, holding Malik’s fingers around the blade. 

“Remember the day we met?”

“I’m not so old that’d I’d forget the day I first met the King of Thieves possessing the body of the guy who’d later become my best friend.”

“I took a knife like this and jabbed it into my own arm to help you with your plans.”

“I remember. You cackled like a hyena.” 

“I didn’t know you. You were some asshole I thought I could use to my advantage.” Bakura stared at the knife, focusing on the way the blade gleamed between their hands. 

“The feeling was mutual.” 

“But do you understand? I sent myself to the hospital. For you. Before I’d even truly called us partners.” 

“Your point?” 

“If I was willing to stab myself back then…” Bakura lifted his eyes, stealing Malik’s gaze. “What do you think I’d do now? For _you_? Now that...now that _I love you_.”

“Is this a promise?” Malik asked. 

“No.” Bakura laughed, but it was broken. He clutched his shirt where the five Ring scars used to sit. “I fuck up my promises even when I want to keep them, and I’m not sure what I’m going to do when…” Bakura’s breath thinned to a wheeze. He struggled, fighting through the paralysis that gripped him. “... _When Ryou dies_...”

“It’s okay.” Malik dropped the knife to the floor so he could pull Bakura into his lap. 

“Stupid, fucking gods—”

“It’s okay.” 

“At this point, I might only be good as a shadow,” Bakura whispered. 

“Then be mine.” Malik kissed Bakura’s face, brushing hair away from his forehead. “Follow me around forever.” 

Bakura nodded, Malik having spoken what Bakura was trying to say. He rested his head on Malik’s shoulder. 

“I’m tired.” 

“Let’s go to sleep.” Malik rearranged Bakura in his arms and scooped him up.

“Don’t—” Bakura felt the strain his weight caused on Malik’s lower back. 

“Let me,” Malik insisted. 

It was only half a dozen steps to the bed. Malik lay Bakura down, dropped his own bathrobe to the floor, and slipped under the covers. Bakura squirmed out of his robe as well, seeking Malik’s body warmth as they twined their limbs together. Bakura breathed. It was not easy, to lay there and breathe when the powerlessness felt like talons sinking into his lungs and twisting. Malik stroked Bakura’s hair, and, degree by degree, Bakura’s breathing steadied until he forgot his grief in sleep. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm behind on replies to comments, but I read them all and appreciate every single one of them!

“You’re not the type to feed ducks,” Ryou said as he hovered over the water on his gold and crimson rug. 

“How do you know?” Bakura tossed another handful of pellets into the garden’s pond. Three ducks fought over the scraps. Carp slipped up from the depths and stole what sank too low. 

“I think it was the years sharing headspace that told me. Where’s Malik?” 

“Having a delicate conversation with Isis.” Toss. The kibble scattered across the surface, rippling out in myriad circles before the mallards splashed the patterns into oblivion. 

“Is he okay?” 

“Everyone but you is okay,” Bakura said. 

Ryou sighed, dropping his own fistful of food into the water. His braid hung over his shoulder. Bakura re-did it every other day so Ryou’s hair wouldn’t tangle. He made sure Ryou ate at least twice, even if he only nibbled off of Bakura’s plate. They went outside most days. Bakura didn’t recognize himself in the actions. The care of another, it was a foreign thing, but Bakura has some strange, innate instinct on _how_ to do it. He wondered if _this_ was the true humanity he’d given up when he’d embraced Zorc. 

“I understand, but why is Malik talking to Isis?” 

“We figured it’d be better if I didn’t show up with Malik unannounced when he went home.” 

“Ah.” Ryou smiled. “Do I get to walk you down the aisle?” 

“Fuck, Ryou.” Bakura laughed. “Don’t say crap like that when you know the first thing I’m going to think about is—”

“How time flies when you’re having fun?” Ryou circled Bakura on his magic carpet, stopping to rest right beside him. 

“You’re losing more weight.” Bakura held Ryou’s arm out to show how skinny it was. 

“I’m eating more now than I was.” Ryou frowned.

“Ryou, I’m sorry,” Bakura whispered. “I’m no good at saving people, or avenging them.” 

“You’re good at stories. Tell me one.” 

“I remember once I saw this beggar asking for beer to go with the leftover bread someone had given him, but no one wanted to help him. So he wanders into this inn, right? And the innkeeper was a fat fucking pig, stuffing his face with choice meat and wine while serving watered down piss to his patrons. And while he feasted, the beggar wandered into the kitchen where he found a pot of soup simmering on the fire. The beggar held the bread over the pot, hoping the steam and popping broth would lend some flavor to the day old bread, but that sleazy innkeep walked in and caught him. He screamed, and demanded the beggar pay him for the soup he took. The beggar- scrawny as you- pleaded for mercy. He hadn’t stolen anything, merely used the smell of the soup in a vain hope to make stale bread taste like a meal. But the innkeeper didn’t care. He said he’d be paid for the smell of his soup or he’d take the beggar’s hand as payment.”

“What a horrible, selfish—”

“Let me finish.” Bakura waved at Ryou to quiet him. “So this whole time I was in a back corner, angry because the beer was so bad. I had a good view into the kitchen from where I sat and watched the entire thing, and the innkeeper had me fully pissed off at that point. So I flipped the table to cause a racket even as this jerk had the beggar’s arm on the cutting board. And I marched into the kitchen, and said ‘Oh, you want to be paid for the smell of soup? Then I’ll pay you with the sound of money.’ With that I dumped a pouch of jewels onto the cutting board. They clinked as they landed in a pile, and his eyes grew huge at the sight of them. Then I punched him.”

“What?” Ryou burst into laughter. 

“The innkeeper was a pig, and his beer was half Nile water. I punched him, took my jewels back, and loaded up a sack full of food to shove at that beggar before sending him on his way.” 

“That story is great!”

“Nice try, Bakura.” Malik appeared from behind a grove of maples and stood beside them. “But that’s an old Turkish fable. Rishid’s told it to me before.” 

“It’s based off of one of _my many epic adventures_.” 

“It’s not even Egyptian.”

“My fist was Egyptian when I knocked that Innkeeper the fuck out. I can’t help it if amused merchants spread the story.” 

“How did your talk with Isis go?” Ryou asked. 

Malik groaned, rubbing his temples and speaking in a mock falsetto. “Our first and foremost duty as Ishtars is to ensure the protection of—bla bla bla bla. Bla bla. Bla bla bla bla.” 

“I couldn’t have said it better myself.” Bakura winked at Malik. 

“I’m sorry, Malik.” Ryou shook his head. 

“It’s fine. It’s not like I’m taking Bakura home tonight, so she’ll have time to get used to the idea. I still intend on being here for a long, long time.”

“Of course.” Ryou smiled though none of them thought it would be that long. Ryou’s wrist beeped. He checked the message, face lighting up. “Seto’s home from work already. I’m going to go give him a kiss hello. See you guys later.” 

“Do you need us to walk to back to the mansion?” Malik offered. 

“No.” A mischievous expression captured Ryou’s face. “Why don’t you two stay here alone for awhile. I’ll be fine on my own.” 

“Wipe that smirk off your face, Ryou.” Bakura scowled. 

“I’m just happy you two ended up getting along, that’s all.” Ryou waved and flew off. 

“Little shit,” Bakura swore. 

“His birthday is in a week.” 

“I know.” 

“Got any plans?” Malik asked. 

“In fact, I do. We’ll need to get Seto in on it so we don’t clash.” 

“Oh-ho, going to get along with Seto, are we? What a special day indeed.” 

“Ha-ha, Malik. You’re hilarious.”

“I try.”

“Want a backrub?” Bakura bumped their shoulders together. 

“Only if I can be naked for it.” Malik grabbed Bakura’s waist and tugged him close, brushing their noses together. Bakura lidded his eyes, nodding in agreement. 

“Let’s go.” 

They floated over the garden to save time, and used the elevator shaft instead of the stairs. The moment they entered Malik’s room, Malik tugged Bakura’s shirt up over his head and ravaged his shoulders with kisses and mock bites. 

“Lay down,” Bakura ordered. 

“Don’t get used to telling me what to do.” Malik sucked against Bakura’s bottom lip. He smacked Bakura’s rump before dropping his clothes and stretching onto his stomach. 

Bakura rummaged through Malik’s collection of oils. He grabbed one with ginger and arnica flower. He removed his own clothes and climbed onto the bed. Using Malik’s ass as a seat, Bakura warmed a pool of oil into his palms and then spread it across Malik’s skin. Malik sighed the moment Bakura’s hands kissed his back. A smile tugged at Bakura’s lips. His fingers dug into Malik’s muscles as he tried to reach the deeper tissues. 

“Bakura…” Malik moaned. 

Bakura sighed, the tension in his own back melting as he worked it out of Malik’s muscles. He dropped from Malik’s shoulders to his mid back. One centimeter at a time Bakura circled his touch lower and lower until he reached the knot in Malik’s right side. 

“Gods!” 

Malik squealed as if it hurt, and it did, but in that specific way of sore muscles where you want to push harder and moan louder in relief. So Bakura did push harder, and Malik did moan louder in relief, fisting the comforter below him. Bakura gave that area a rest to work on Malik’s tailbone. Malik hitched up, ass grinding against Bakura’s crotch. Bakura smirked and meandered his way up Malik’s back. He didn’t rush, smothering Malik’s skin with presses and massaging caresses. He reached the nape of Malik’s neck, and as he kneaded it, he bent low and whispered in Malik’s ear. 

“Do you trust me?” 

“To be awful?” Malik smirked over his shoulder. 

“Do you trust me?” Bakura tucked a strand of gold behind Malik’s ear. 

“I do,” Malik said. 

“I want to try something, with magic.” 

“You want to heal my back, don’t you?” Malik’s former smirk shifted to a real smile. 

“Is that what I was going to do?” Bakura grinned back at him. 

“I’m sorry, Bakura.” The smiled dropped from Malik’s face. “You can’t. Technically scars are already healed. I tried it on Rishid, and it never worked.” 

“Oh, I wasn’t going to heal your scars.” Bakura’s fingertips landed on the sundisk carved into Malik’s back. 

“Then…”

“The nerves,” Bakura explained. “I can fix the nerve damage beneath the skin.” 

“Sh-sure.” 

“If you don’t want me to, I won’t,” Bakura said after hearing the stutter in Malik’s voice. 

“You can try.” Malik sounded sad. 

“Do or don’t do. There is no try.”

“Oh you fucking nerd.” Malik groaned at the Star Wars reference. 

Bakura kissed the nape of Malik’s neck before conscentraining the heka to his fingertips. Malik’s nerves felt like golden, shining filaments dancing below Bakura’s touch, but some of the ends were burnt out—ruined and charred like the remains of the village Bakura once called home. Bakura’s fingers crept down Malik’s back like long, white spider legs. Instead of webbing, he spun magic, weaving the filaments to life and sewing them together again.

“ _Bakura_ ,” Malik’s voice rang out in the room, raw and thicker than honey dripping from a freshly torn chunk of comb. 

Bakura’s back burned the way ice burns when pressed against the skin. Only, instead of his back slowly going numb from the cold, sensation rushed into his shoulders and upper back. He kept weaving the glimmering, golden threads of magic. Another guttural moan escaped Malik. Blood swelled into Bakura's cock. The new, tingling sensations in their muscles had them high. Bakura laughed. Malik copied it, tears welling in the corners of his eyes as he cackled shamelessly into his pillow. Bakura focused on the nerves surrounding Malik’s spine. 

“If this gets any better I’m going to come!” Malik screamed. 

“Sorry, not sorry.” Bakura’s cheeks burned as he watched Malik writhe beneath him. 

“Oh, Bakura!” Malik tossed back his head. The burning near the top was evaporating, blessed relief washing into spaces where nothing but discomfort had been since Bakura returned from the Shadows. 

“Almost done,” Bakura whispered. 

“Don’t stop!” 

Bakura saved the worst spot for the end. The nerves were a wreck; the strands of nerves flickered with dingy half-light instead of the vibrant gold flowing through the rest of Malik’s body. Bakura poured heka into the area, charging the broken threads with light. The threads of gold lengthened as they brightened, webbing outward until the connected with the other strands. Sweat dripped down Bakura’s face making his hair cling to his cheeks. Malik’s hands clutched the blankets as he slowly frotted against the goosedown below him. 

“Bakura!” 

“I—" Bakura gasped, out of his mind as Malik’s physical and emotional feelings overwhelmed them both. 

“Fuck me! Please, gods, please, take me right now. I feel so good, don’t let it end just yet!” 

“Shit. Malik…” 

Bakura’s sight unfocused. The world around him blurred, but Malik stayed in perfect crystal clarity. Bakura reached his hand behind him, and Malik’s closet door swung wide. The chest inside opened and Malik’s bottle of lube flung itself into Bakura’s hand. The nerves in his belly hitched. No magic, unless Malik rocking beneath him was magic—Bakura suspected it was. He scooted so he could spread Malik’s cheeks wide. He anointed Malik with lube, smoothing it around is entrance before slipping a finger inside. 

“Gods!” Malik squealed. He pulled his pillow closer and screamed into it as Bakura added a second finger. Even with the pillow, Malik’s cries echoed off of the walls—stealing Bakura’s breath. 

After a minute he added a third, playing with how he pumped into Malik’s body. He found Malik’s prostate and dragged his fingers along it. Malik’s screams grew needy. A moan escaped Bakura’s lips, not sure how long he could last. He smothered his cock and teased Malik’s asshole with his cockhead. Bakura’s breath sped up when he felt the echo of Malik’s sensation against his own asshole. He knew Malik’s cock could also feel the heat Bakura’s tip pressed against Malik's delicate flesh. Unable to wait another second, Bakura glided into Malik’s body, waves of euphoria drowning him as he eased in and out. Bakura sank onto his forearms, his body stacked on top of Malik’s, their rocking easy and deliberate. Bakura kissed Malik’s neck, but Malik could only wail pure bliss into the pillows. The world blurred around them. Bakura drowned in the passion of the moment. 

“Mhh-Mal’ick!” Bakura gasped, shuttering, climbing. 

He sped the pace of his hips—needing the heat surrounding him, needing Malik surrounding him. Malik chanted Bakura’s name, shoved his ass into each thrust Bakura gave. Their bodies struck together, electricity spun through them, heka flowed between them. Their ba and ka twined, fusing. They glowed. It wasn’t a spell, not an intentional one, but it was pure, untamable magic moving, moving, moving through them. 

Bakura held onto Malik’s shoulders, using the grip as leverage to thrust deeper. They called out together, moaned together, moved together, and in a burst of intense, _gods yes,_ satisfaction—they came together. Bakura trembled as he lay on top of Malik, afraid of how close he felt to Malik. It wasn’t because their sensations were linked together, that he felt close, it was the simple act of laying with Malik, naked, vulnerable, drenched in sweat, and… content. 

Bakura shifted so he lay beside Malik instead of on top of him. Malik looked at Bakura as if he wanted to speak. He opened his mouth, but no words left his throat. Bakura used the pad of his thumb to wipe a smear of kohl away from Malik’s flushed cheek. 

“I’m going to follow you forever,” Bakura whispered. “If you rise into the heavens and became a star, I’ll burn beside you. If you march into the Tribunal and challenge the gods, I’ll hand you a khopesh. If you’re too grand and glorious for the Duat and become a new god, a better god, then I’ll suck the magic out of the universe and hand it to you so we can create a new world.” 

“You smooth fucker.” Malik gripped Bakura’s shoulders. A single snuff of laughter leaked from Malik as his gaze danced across Bakura’s face. “I love you.” 

_I love you_ , Bakura mouthed it back, but the moan he made when Malik kissed him was loud. 

“I feel guilty,” Malik said as they parted.

“Why?”

“I should be sad—I am sad—but at the same time I’m so happy right now. It feels so wrong. What a bad time to fall in love.” 

“I think Ryou would argue with you. He’d say no time would be a bad time for love.”

“Probably. You’re a bad influence on him.” 

“Someone’s gotta be. The rest of you became so…” 

“Stable?” 

“Responsible. It’s boring as hell.” Bakura laughed. 

“This from the guy who wakes up every morning to brush Ryou’s hair, feed him breakfast, and get him outside.” 

“Shhh,” Bakura pressed a finger to his lips. “Don’t ruin my reputation. I pride myself on being an asshole.” 

“Don’t worry. _That_ reputation won’t ever go away. You’ve earned it.”

“Thanks.” Bakura snorted. He rolled onto his back, sighing as he sank into the mattress without a hint of pain in his shoulders or above his hips. “I don’t know what they’re serving for dinner, but I’m going to devour all of it. Might even take a bite of your terrible vegetarian food.” 

“You’d like baba ganoush if you weren’t a coward.” Malik poked Bakura in the ribs. “Um… thanks. Thank you, Bakura. I didn’t think you’d make much difference but… I can’t even describe it. I never realized how much it hurt until you stole it all away. It was so normal for me.” 

“I know that feeling.” Bakura laced his fingers with Malik's. 

“I suppose you do. We always were sort of similar.” 

“Guess you’re right.” 

“Want to take a bath and then raid the kitchen for pre-dinner snacks?” Malik squeezed Bakura’s hand. 

“Hell yes I do.”

***

“You were literally echoing down the hallway.” Ryou hid his face in both of his hands, laughing himself to hiccups. 

“Of course we were. I’m amazing.” Bakura cleaned his nails as servers scurried around them, setting down trays and filling their glasses. 

“No one’s _that_ good. What sort of magic did you use?” Ryou leaned closer. “I want to try it.” 

Seto’s expression didn’t change, but a hint of pink graced his cheeks. 

“I don’t think you could recreate it. Hell, I don’t think I could either. It was a one time deal.” 

“ _What did you do?_ I’m dying to know.” Ryou laughed.

“Dying to know, eh?” Bakura echoed him. Malik jabbed his elbow into Bakura’s side. “What? He said it! Damn guys. Live a little.” 

“I hate every _single_ word you say.” Seto growled. 

“Ryou, give me your hand.” Bakura offered his own for Ryou to take. 

“Why?” Ryou asked, suspicious. 

“Because I’m going to make you come right here at the dinner table with a mere brush of my fingertips. Hope you like getting cucked, Seto.” Bakura blew Seto a kiss. 

“Whatever.” Ryou dropped his hand into Bakura’s before he and Seto could argue. 

“Other hand.”

“Ooookay.” Ryou switched to his left hand. 

“It’s not going to be the same, obviously. I’m not aroused, and we’re not connected like Malik and I am.” Bakura began massaging around Ryou’s scar. “But it should help.” 

“Oh, so all that coming and cucking was just big talk? Should have figured.” Ryou smirked. 

“This is what I’m talking about when I say you’re a bad influence on him.” Malik paid more attention to his cabbage rolls than to the rest of the conversation. Bakura felt the slight warmth of embarrassment radiating from him. 

“Well, it tingles, but it’s nothing to scream to the Heavens over.” Ryou laughed. 

“I _told_ you. The spell isn’t like that. It just happened that way with Malik,” Bakura snapped. 

“Pitty. Well, this palm reading is fun, but—oh my goodness.” Ryou stared down at his hand. “I haven’t felt that much in my fingers since—”

“Yeah…” Bakura sighed, remembering how he’d slammed the hand down onto the castle spire. “It’s too little too late, but I thought I should do it anyway.” 

“You healed the nerves?” Ryou wiggled his fingers and clenched and unclenched his fist. “Amazing.” 

“I can fix the rest later.” Bakura shrugged.

“All right. Although it’s still a little disappointing that you were working on your cure spells and not crazy sex magic.” 

“I’m already magic in the sack. I don’t need spells.” Bakura winked. 

“You’re so fucking full of yourself.” Malik shot him an aggravated glare. 

“Don’t worry—you’re just as good.” Bakura started on his own food. 

“Seto, can’t you whip up one of your death games and toss Bakura inside it? Save me a lot of headaches in the future.”

“Believe me, I have a few ideas for some,” Seto said. 

Bakura pinched himself. 

“Stop that.” Malik furrowed his brows. 

“Just reminding you that if you have me killed, you’re going to die too.” 

“I’m weighing my options nonetheless.” 

“But who would keep your bed warm?” Bakura teased. 

"Considering how poorly you both fight with your polymerized ka, neither one of you are much good in bed," Seto said.

“I don’t know—Bakura sang. “I think the next time we spar, we’ll surprise you.” 

“Anytime you think you can.” Seto scoffed. 

Ryou placed his hand on top of Seto’s and squeezed it. Seto glanced down, staring at it for a moment. He covered their joined hands with his other one. 

“Maybe after Ryou feels better,” Seto muttered. 

“Of course. We want you both at your best when we kick your asses.” Bakura stared at the last of his dinner, no longer eating. “Ryou—”

“I know. I know. I’m trying.” Ryou took a bit of the pasta dish on his plate. He chewed automatically. “I can’t really taste it.” 

They all glanced up at him. 

“Sorry. I’m sure it’s delicious. I just…”

“Don’t apologize.” Bakura shook his head. “None of us cooked it anyway. In fact.” He shoved his plate away and stood up. “I’m not even hungry myself. Let’s go play games.” 

“No. Bakura. Eat.” Ryou frowned. 

“He’s right.” Malik stood up as well. “We snacked right before dinner. We can eat the leftovers later, but right now I just want to play a game.” 

“You know I’m alway ready for a game.” Seto wiped his mouth with a napkin before he joined the others standing. 

“I’m eating—you guys don’t have to stop.” Ryou scooped another bite into his mouth to prove his point. “Please, I don’t want you skip dinner because of me.” 

“Eat later. Game now.” Bakura hoisted Ryou up into his arms—It was easier than he would have liked—and set him onto the carpet floating behind Ryou’s chair. 

“What do you want to play?” Seto asked. 

“The Let’s Sit Down And Eat Dinner Game.” 

“Ryou, we’re fine, and if you’re not enjoying the food…” Bakura pressed his nails into his palms. “Let’s just have fun right now, okay?” 

“Okay.” Ryou nodded. “Could we play Monster World? I was going to wait until my birthday but—”

“Of course we’ll play,” Seto said. 

“You know…” Ryou grinned. “We could go to the diorama room and pick out one of my pre-made sets.” 

“Let’s ditch Seto and fly there!” Bakura tossed his head back and cackled as he launched himself into the air. 

“Jerk! Call the race before you start flying!” Malik rushed after him.

Malik caught up and grabbed Bakura’s hand. Bakura grinned and laced their fingers together as they sped through the hallways. They placed the apple in the statue’s hand to open the back passages, and Bakura kept the halls well lit so Malik wouldn’t feel claustrophobic in the dim light. 

“Finally! We beat those two at something!” Bakura bumped Malik with his hip as they entered the room where Ryou kept all his favorite dioramas. 

“Are you sure about that?” Seto stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed over his chest. The smugness on his face gleamed. 

“How the fuck?” Bakura shouted. 

“Congratulations, Bakura. You found all the secrets that Seto installed into the mansion as a wedding present.” Ryou smiled. He looked like a extra in a zombie movie when he smiled. “But I didn’t show you any of the ones I added over the years of our marriage.” 

“That’s not fair.” Bakura scowled. “You cheated.” 

“Oh please.” Malik snorted laughter. “You’re just jealous that their cheating was better than yours, so they won.” 

“Absolutely true, but Ryou’s supposed to be the good guy. He shouldn’t be cheating!” 

“Races don’t have good guys and bad guys.” Ryou shrugged. 

“Only winners and losers.” Seto’s grin expanded. 

“Fuck, let’s just play. I call dibs on thief.”

“Oh? Thief?” Malik smirked. “You going to be a hobbit again?” 

“Yes I am. They’re the best race for the jobclass.” 

“I still have your old figurines, if you want one of those,” Ryou flew to one of the shelves lining the wall. He picked up a glass case and brought it to Bakura. Inside stood a little white-haired thief wrapped up in brown robes, and another, darker silver-haired thief in a bright red robe. 

“Oh hey, that’s your character from the game we were playing.” Malik pointed to the red robbed thief.

“I’ve used him once or twice.” Bakura scratched the back of his head. 

“Yeah, like in your first incarnation.” Ryou laughed, pulling out the red-robed thief. “This is what he looked like when he was alive in Egypt.” 

“What?” Malik took the figurine out of Ryou’s hand, rubbing the crown of his silver-mop of hair. 

“You knew I was the Thief King.” Bakura shrugged. 

“But I didn’t know the Thief King was such a hottie.” Malik poked Bakura’s arm. 

“Of course. You think I’m only cute in Ryou’s body? Hell no! I rock any-body I’m in.” 

“Yes, but unlike when Seto’s in my body, I never really had a good time with you.” Ryou folded his hands in his lap as if he hadn't just sent Bakura to the hospital with 4th degree burns. 

“Damn. I think I need first aid.” Malik pressed a hand to his chest. “I could feel that right through our magical link.” 

“Can we actually play a game tonight?” Seto’s jaw tightened. “Or our we just going to make sex jokes?” 

“I’m versatile and can do both. Grab your dice and let’s go.” Bakura snatched the thief figurine with the red robe. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last "filler" chapter. Next chapter is Ryou's birthday :D

Bakura licked his finger to help him turn the page. Beside him, Malik slept curled against his side. Bakura inhaled slow breaths, keeping his heart rate calm so he didn’t wake Malik, but when he turned the page, his mouth dropped open in shock.

“Bakura?” Malik murmured. 

“Fine. Go back to sleep.” Bakura kissed Malik’s forehead. 

“Oh, you’re still reading that?” Malik yawned as he studied the book in Bakura’s hand. 

“Figured I should finish what I started.” Bakura shrugged. “But after all this—they’re not even a match for each other?” 

“Nope. They really weren’t each other’s thread connections.” 

“Should I even bother reading the last book?” Bakura grunted, dropping the book onto the floor.

“I think you should.” 

“I’ll flip through it later.” Bakura stretched. “Better mix something up for Ryou to drink for breakfast.” 

“I’m really glad we brought you back.” Malik brushed his fingers across Bakura’s knuckles. “For myself, of course, but also because of how much of a difference you’ve made.” 

“Difference? I’ve failed at every fucking turn.” Bakura’s hands clenched into fists. “Ryou’s worse than ever.” 

“That’s not true. Didn’t you look at him last night while we were gaming?” 

“Yeah, and he looked dead—” Bakura’s voice cracked. 

“He looked happy.” Malik sat up, gripping Bakura’s arm. “You make him laugh.”

“Laughter doesn’t fucking cure anything.” 

“But it makes his last moments count.” Malik rested his head on Bakura’s shoulder. “And Seto’s only working half days now. You piss him off, but he knew you were right, and I don’t think anyone else could have convinced him to spend more time with Ryou.”

“That’s because you guys let him act like a spoiled brat all the time.” Bakura sighed, staring at the top of their bed canopy. “I can’t stand this feeling… being helpless. The gods couldn’t have picked a worst punishment for me if they’d spent the last 3,000 years planning it, but I can’t even blame the gods… this is all my fault.” 

Malik held Bakura. He knew better than to try and tell Bakura he wasn’t to blame. Malik knew the story, and Malik knew what it felt like to kill family. The only difference between them was that Malik’s father had it coming, but Ryou didn’t deserve his fate. Bakura pushed the thoughts to the side as he dressed and made his way to the kitchen. Since Ryou couldn’t taste much, Bakura figured there was no reason to torment him with dessert. He mixed up a protein shake and carried it to Ryou’s room. Seto was there, already dressed and brushing Ryou’s hair out. Ryou sat in a chair in front of his vanity. 

“Good morning,” Malik said.

“Morning!” Ryou waved at them, watching them through the reflection of the mirror since he was turned the wrong way. 

“‘Bout time you do something useful,” Bakura muttered to Seto, though he was more pleased to see Seto trying than he articulated.

“I turned in a few weeks of vacation time,” Seto said.

“Good. I can start sleeping in.” Bakura had no intention of sleeping in, but he didn’t want to admit how it worried him, that Seto was taking off work entirely. It meant Seto didn’t think Ryou had more than a few weeks. 

“Eeew, Bakura, why is it green?” Ryou twisted his face at the cup in Bakura’s hand. 

“Spinach.” 

“I don’t want to drink spinach.” 

“Can you taste it?” Bakura asked.

“Not really.”

“Then chug, bitch.” Bakura shoved the glass at Ryou. 

“No way.” Ryou held out his hands to block the glass. 

“I’m not eating anything until this is empty,” Bakura said.

“That’s blackmail.” Ryou pouted.

“You say it like I’m somehow above blackmail.” 

“Fine.” Ryou grabbed the cup and sucked at the straw. 

“Anything you want to do today, Ryou?” Malik asked. 

“Let’s have a horror movie marathon.” 

“Sounds fun. We’ll meet in the theater room after breakfast.” Malik gave a wave. “We’ll let you two have a little time together while we go eat.” 

“Thanks, Malik.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Bakura shot a finger at them as he left the room. “And drink all your damn shake. Seto will snitch you out if you try to dump any into a plant!” 

Ryou called back a short-tempered response, but Bakura laughed and ignored it as he and Malik walked to the dining room. Neither of them mentioned how they took the long way to the dining room. Their hands fumbled until their fingers were clasped, and they walked slow. 

“Maybe you’ll think of something last minute. You’re good with last minute,” Malik said. 

“I sure the fuck am.” Bakura grinned, but it crashed, leaving all the muscles in his face tight and heavy. 

“I love horror movies. I grew up with Rishid whispering stories of _ghuls_ and _djinn_. It’s one of the things that made Ryou and I friends.” 

“He always had a knack for picking out movies with good vengeance plots. Even…when I was in the Ring...sometimes he’d have marathons, and I usually let him keep the body that day. Unless I really needed it.” 

“So this will be fun.” Malik spoke as if convincing himself. 

“Hell yeah it’ll be fun. That theater room is an excessive waste of wealth and Seto should be executed for having so much money.” 

“Bakura, I’m not hungry.” Malik’s face wrinkled. 

“Neither am I, but Ryou had breakfast anyway, so drink some juice.” 

“Now you’re taking care of me?” Malik’s laugh was weak and thin. 

“It’s what Ryou would want me to do…” Bakura chewed on his bottom lip before adding, “It’s what I want to do.” 

“Okay, juice isn’t too bad, and maybe a bite of rice.” 

They pushed into the dining room and ate a small, miserable breakfast, but by the time they met Ryou and Seto in the theater room, they both wore smiles. The theater room was a full sized theater, only with recliner chairs instead of regular seating. Bakura leaned back, sinking into the plush leather. 

“Popcorn?” Ryou asked. 

“Not for the first movie.” Bakura shook his head. 

“I have to eat popcorn during the first movie.” 

“I remember,” Bakura said, thinking about Ryou in high school. 

It hurt. All at once the pain stabbed Bakura in the chest. Ryou had been slender but not dilapidated. His eyes were dark-circled from writing campaigns instead of from his ka flickering out. Ryou had been so alive, even as Bakura stabbed him and controlled him like a marionette. Now, Ryou was slipping away like sand through Bakura’s fingers, and he couldn’t grasp on tightly enough to keep him. He wanted to fling himself to the ground. To scream out to Ammit to take his soul instead. If Ma’at truly cared, truly wanted to balance the scales, she’d let Ryou live and take Bakura instead. He blew his chance to live 3,000 years ago. Why should he survive and Ryou die? Yugi was alive and the Pharaoh was dead, and Bakura wanted to give Ryou the same gift. 

The lights dimmed and the screen flashed with intro of the first movie. Malik took Bakura’s hand, nails digging into Bakura’s palm. Bakura closed his eyes and exhaled. He couldn’t. He couldn’t fling himself at Ammit because his life and soul were sewn with Malik’s. Not only from the original spell, but from their own magic, the magic that kept glowing around them every night when they embraced, every day when they argued, even at that very moment while they held hands in the dark. 

***

They watched movies until that evening, breaking for lunch and dinner and two more times so Malik could stretch his legs in the sunshine. Ryou dozed through half of the movies, but would always pop awake when he heard the credits play and beg for another one. When his naps became a deep, long, sleep, Seto carted him back to their room and Bakura took Malik’s hand for a walk. 

“Bike ride?” Bakua asked. 

“Sounds good. Thanks.” 

They rode for an hour before returning to the mansion. Malik looked better after the ride. He stretched and fluffed his hair back out once his helmet was off. 

“I needed that,” he said to Bakura. 

“I know.” Bakura bumped their shoulders together. 

“Want to play one last game in the VR system before we officially call our beta’ing quits?” Malik suggested. 

“You know, there’s not much else for us to do. We’re already on a game plus system and we’re in epic levels.” 

“Yeah, I just thought—”

“So there’s no reason the play vanilla anymore, right?”

“What did you have in mind?” Malik grinned. 

“I made a mod.” 

“How? I know Seto didn’t give you the engine to do that.” 

“Nope. He sure didn’t. But technology and magic really aren’t all that different, are they?” 

“Then let’s see this mod of yours.” Malik booped Bakura on the nose before walking toward the sun room where they strapped on their wrist bands and ear pieces. 

Bakura floated in space for a moment as he found the file he’d hidden and loaded it up before connecting his game to Malik’s. They found themselves on top of a stone castle. The wind tore at their hair and the feathers of Malik’s wings. 

“I remember this quest. We had to save a dragon.”

“Leave it to Seto to add a quest where you _save_ a dragon instead of _slay_ one.” 

“Any reason you picked this area?” 

“Yeah.” Bakura smirked, lifting on his tiptoes to whisper in Malik’s ear. “I liked the throne room.” 

Malik raised an eyebrow. He scooped Bakura into his arms and carried him down the spiral staircase and into the main hall. Double hearths lined the wall to their right. Braziers circled around the throne, casting extra light into the room. A few narrow slits in the stone acted as windows, and yellow shafts of sunlight struck the crimson leader leading to the gold and velvet seat. The back of the throne was carved into the shape of a huge oak, jewels flashed at the tips of the branches instead of buds. Malik set Bakura to his feet, gliding his hands down Bakura’s always bare shoulders. 

“Kiss me,” Bakura whispered. 

Malik threaded his fingers through Bakura’s silver hair and pulled him close. He molded and teased Bakura’s top lip with his own. Bakura’s fingers explored Malik’s chest. He found the lacing of Malik’s tunic and untied the knot. Their breaths echoed in the stone chamber and they gasped through their noses and worked the clothing off of their bodies. Bakura’s skirt dropped to his feet, pooling around them like the petals of a lotus blossom. Malik’s blouse sifted down next; his belt followed. 

“I can’t feel you. It’s a little lonely,” Malik said. 

“I know. Want to go to our room instead?” 

“Our room.” Malik smiled between several deep, passionate kisses. “Let’s try it this way at least once. Besides, Seto’s an ass for putting blocks in the game with real violence. I want to rile him up a little.” 

“You know what I like,” Bakura purred. He pushed Malik backward, walking him to the throne and sitting him in it.

Bakura crawled into Malik’s lap. His mouth traveled down Malik’s chest. Malik rubbed Bakura’s shoulders, arching into Bakura’s mouth. The scents of the herbs sprinkled on the floor, and the cedar tables and benches stretching down the hall mixed with the woodsmoke and Malik’s cologne. Bakura sighed, coiling his arms around Malik’s neck and baring his own chest to be kissed. Malik stretched his tongue out, lapping at Bakura’s nipple. Bakura moaned, frotting lightly against Malik’s cock to get them warmed up. 

Malik’s cockhead brushed up Bakura’s dick, but he couldn’t feel it through Malik’s perspective. In a way, it was like a silk scarf had been wrapped around Bakura’s eyes, leaving him unable to see. He fumbled, groping at Malik in a desperate rush to compensate for the missing sensations. Malik’s nails grazed Bakura’s sides and his tongue lashed at Bakura’s throat and Bakura could tell Malik was as off-balance from the missing sensations as Bakura. So they grabbed each other, and smashed their chests together, and moved like they couldn’t breath unless it was to inhale the other’s scent. 

“Since you have the potions perk, check your inventory.” 

“Am I looking for lube?”

“Bingo.” Bakura chuckled. 

“Wait, drink this first.” Malik pressed a different bottle to Bakura’s lips. “Dexterity potion.”

Bakura chugged the potion. Malik drank one as well. Then he handed Bakura one for increased speed and endurance. Bakura laughed, sputtering bright blue liquid. He coughed to clear his throat and finished the last potion. The lights bounced off the gold of the throne. Bakura saw every detail in the room in perfect clarity. The potions enhanced his senses showing him textures and scents he never dreamed of, let alone experienced. He wanted to run through the woods like a wolf and howl; instead, he kissed Malik as Malik probed Bakura’s asshole with a lube-slick finger. Bakura waited until Malik used two fingers, but the moment he felt ready, Bakura planted himself over Malik’s cock and sank down his shaft. He howled in pleasure. His face burned and his heart skipped a beat as Malik filled him. 

“Bakura,” Malik moaned in a throaty voice. 

“Malik.” Bakura lifted up and impaled himself deeper, chanting Malik’s name each time he dropped down. “Malik… Malik… Malik…” 

Malik held Bakura’s waist. His nails pinched Bakura’s skin, inciting an excited shiver through Bakura’s body. He clung the back of the golden throne, using it as leverage as he circled his hips. Bakura panted as he moved, Malik’s cock piercing him again and again and again and sweet gods Bakura couldn’t stand how good it felt. He screamed, unable to restrain himself. A dove rustled in the eaves, spooked by Bakura’s cries. Three white feathers fluttered down. One skimmed Bakura’s back, another landed in his hair. Malik laughed, plucked the stray feather away, and dropped it to the floor. 

“Good choice of rooms,” He gasped between heavy breaths. 

“If you ever have any requests— _oh damn, Malik!_ ” 

“The ship. Where we killed the kraken.” 

“Okay. Oh, oh, oh, yes, Malik—will you touch me?” Bakura asked. 

He’d beg if he had to, beg without hesitation. His cock swelled and throbbed. Precome leaked down the tip. Each time he dropped onto Malik’s cock it jolted his body with lightning strikes, but he couldn’t come because he was one-winged without Malik’s half of the experience. Malik graced his fingertips across Bakura’s chest. Bakura shivered, relishing the caress, but Malik’s fingers never slid lower. 

“Malik,” he whined.

Malik hummed, hand dipping down to Bakura’s hips and holding on. His eyelids drooped. He was flushed and intoxicated, planting little kisses on Bakura’s chest. 

“Malik, stop teasing me and _touch me_.” Bakura bucked, rubbing his engorged cock against Malik’s belly. 

“Huh? Oh!” Malik called out in epiphany instead of euphoria. His left hand braced the small of Bakura’s back, and the right one curled around Bakura’s cock. “Is this what you wanted?”

“Yes.” Bakura hitched faster as Malik stroked him. “Malik yes.” 

His mind whirled. His thoughts curled in on themselves, smaller and smaller until they were a tight ball, too small to register as thoughts at all. There was only his instincts, to move, to moan, to cling to Malik with all his failing strength. His nerves shivered with pleasure, expanding, pushing outward. Bakura arched his back and came. 

Malik grabbed Bakura’s hips again. He urged Bakura to keep bucking. Bakura allowed Malik to guide his body. His hands fell from the throne and gripped Malik’s shoulders instead. A soft, desperate whine escaped Malik. Bakura pushed his exhausted thighs to move faster until the pitch of Malik’s whimpers grew sharp and high as he poured into Bakura. They gasped, stealing half kissing from each other as they caught their breath. 

Bakura curled into Malik’s lap, dozing and enjoying the crackle of the hearth fire. Malik’s arm twined around him. Sweat glazed their body, but neither let go. 

“What’s the likelihood that we need to change?” Bakura asked. 

“High enough that we should end the game.” Malik laughed. “Give me another minute. I want to hold you.” 

Bakura grunted, nuzzling Malik’s chest. They held together until their naked bodies shivered with the chill of the castle. The stars glinted through the narrow windows and cricket song competed with the fire’s popping. They finally stood up and ended their session. The trip to Malik’s room was uncomfortable, but Malik ran a hot bath and dumped a fancy bath bomb into the water. 

“Look Bakura, it’s black like your soul.” 

“There’s too much glitter in the water for it to be my soul,” Bakura said.

“I’m not so sure that’s true.” Malik snickered. “If anything, it needs more glitter.”

“Fuck you.” 

“You’ll have to wait until next time. That’s what got us here to begin with.” Malik slipped into the water. Bakura splashed in after him, looping his arms around Malik’s neck. “Bakura, can you at least try not to splash around like you’re a toddler?”

“I could try, but I have no inclination _to_ try.” 

“You'd better behave.”

“Or what?”

“This.” Malik hummed, grabbing Bakura’s ribs and tickling them. 

“Fucker! Stupid fucker!” Bakura squealed as they both thrashed in the tub and laughed. 

So much water sloshed onto the floor that Malik had to turn the facet back on to refill the tub. Bakura scowled, hiding at the opposite end of the large tub. The corners of his lips twitched, demanding he smile. Bakura gave up and started laughing again. 

“You fucked up the bathroom more than I did.” 

“Oooops.” Malik shrugged. “Good thing we have towels.”

“Oh, so when I splash around it’s ‘Bakura you’re a toddler’ but when _you_ do it suddenly ‘we have towels’ what bullshit.” 

“I can’t help it if I’m better at arguing than you are.” 

Bakura splashed Malik in the face. Malik screamed before diving for Bakura and tickling him again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh shit, I just hit post instead of draft. 
> 
> Well, y'all get an early update b/c I'm was distracted lmao.


	16. Chapter 16

“Ryou, wake up.” Seto shook Ryou’s shoulder, but Ryou didn’t budge. “Wake up.” 

“Baby, let me sleep,” Ryou moaned, rolling over on his opposite side and away from Seto. 

“You know better than a gentle approach.” Malik and Bakura both snickered.

“Here, let me try.” Bakrua grinned.

“Don’t be an ass on his birthday.” Seto glared. 

“Hey, I’m just waking him up. No big deal,” Bakura said as he conjured a tuba. 

Malik and Seto both grabbed for it, but the blast of noise made them jump back, smashing their hands against their ears. Ryou jerked up swinging blindly at the noise. He clipped the side of Bakura’s arm, and Bakura cackled, patting the spot on Malik in apology. 

“It’s still dark outside, Bakura!” Ryou’s voice cracked with sleep and fatigue. 

Bakura snapped and the lights popped on. Ryou’s clothes floated to the bed. Ryou lifted up into the air, changing into the clothes much like a magical girl transformation. Ryou grit his teeth, sneering at Bakura. 

“Why are you tormenting me like this? Why are all of you awake? Please let me sleep I—”

“We wanted you to see the sunrise on your birthday,” Bakura said. 

Ryou’s expression went blank, the rage and fatigue evaporating as he stared at each of them. 

“It’s my fault.” Malik continued to rub the spot on his arm where Ryou had hit Bakura. “You’re always telling me to watch the sunrises for you after… you’re gone, so I thought it’d be nice if we all watched one together while you’re still here.” 

“Oh Malik, that’s so sweet. Thank you. I’m sorry I yelled.” 

“Hey, hey, no tears.” Bakura thumbed away the drop trickling down Ryou’s cheek. “It’s your birthday, and we have a few surprises for you, so hop onto your magic carpet and let’s blow this popsicle stand.” 

Ryou nodded, wiping his face until it was fully dry. Seto placed Ryou on the flying carpet, and wrapped extra blankets around Ryou’s lap and shoulders. When he was swaddled in cashmere and wool, they headed to the helicopter pad. 

“Are we going somewhere specific?” Ryo asked.

“Somewhere with a good view.” Seto smiled, tucking a stray bit of hair behind Ryou’s ear. 

Ryo dozed as they traveled. Bakura stared down at the Domino City lights winking below them. The air was cool, and only a few cars clogged the streets so early in the morning. Malik heaved a sleepy sigh and leaned against Bakura’s shoulder. Bakura smiled the moment they touched. Leaning close, he kissed Malik’s forehead. They landed on the tallest mountain surrounding Domino. 

Servants had already set up the pre-dawn picnic. Muffins, fruit, croissants, bacon, and slices of cheese clustered around a platform facing east. A silver, covered tray sat in the center. Ryo yawned and stretched when he felt everyone sitting up and jumping out of the copter. They taxied him over to the stage and sat him down in a comfortable chair.

“This is beautiful. Thank you, Seto, and thank you for suggesting it, Malik.”

“You should thank Bakura too.” Malik smirked. 

“Why? I can tell he did something specific because of the look on your face.” Ryou glanced over to Bakura. 

“I just followed the video I found on the internet,” Bakura grumbled beneath his breath. “They probably suck, but you can’t taste much anyway, so at least they look okay.”

Bakura pulled the lid off the silver platter, revealing jumbo cupcakes buried in a mountain of buttercream frosting and glittery rainbow sugar. On top of each cupcake, base sinking into the frosting, was a Monster World figurine of their characters from their last game.

Ryou muffled a quiet squeal behind his palms. His eyes gleamed with excitement and emotion as he stared at the cupcakes. 

“Did you take a picture? I can’t try them into you take a picture.”

“Yeah, Malik took some on his phone.” Bakura sighed. 

“Oh my god. They look amazing! Let’s eat these first! We can have breakfast afterward.” Ryou laughed. 

“Your birthday, your rules.” Seto kissed his lips. Their noses brushed a moment before Seto reached over and handed Ryou his specific birthday cupcake. 

Ryou took a huge bite. If he wasn’t hungry, he didn’t show it as he licked frosting away from his lips. 

“This is incredible.” He moaned, inhaling a second bite. 

“You can’t taste it.” Bakura dug into the wood of the platform with the toe of his shoe.

“Yes I can, you magical fuck. Mostly, anyway. I swear.” 

“I don’t know if I trust you, but...thanks.”

“Eat one!” 

They all grabbed their own cupcake. Malik winked as he tongued the frosting off of the base of his figurine. Bakura’s gaze never left Malik’s mouth as he watched. Malik also moaned after a bite. 

“He’s right, Bakura. These are good.” 

Bakura shrugged off the compliments as he ate his own. The frosting had the right amount of butter flavor, and the cake was moist and fluffy, so he guessed they were right although cooking wasn’t on his list of skills he intended to ever get good at. They finished, licked their fingers clean, and then dove into the rest of breakfast. Even Ryou picked at a strip of bacon while the rest of them ate and talked with him. 

“I’d really like to go to Egypt with you guys one day,” Ryou said as he stared at the first hint of dawn rising over Domino City from the east. “It’s been awhile since I’ve been, and I…” Ryou looked away from the sunrise. “I hope it’s enough, Bakura. We did everything—”

“What’s important is you did _something_.” Bakura’s eyes resembled wet glass, bright and shining. “No one else would even listen to me. The Pharaoh himself was too busy labeling my people thieves to consider his duty to them as Pharaoh. I’m the one who never did enough—the rest of you have shown me that.” 

“You have time to make a difference,” Ryou said. 

“Yeah.” Bakura laughed as three tears splashed against the white lace tablecloth. “I do, thanks to you and Malik, although you’re out of time because of me…”

“I forbid you to feel guilty on my birthday.” Ryou wadded up a napkin and tossed it at Bakura. “Tell me a story instead. Tell me about Ra while I watch the sunset.” 

“Ra…” Bakura paused, summoning a story into his thoughts. “The sunrise is him racing toward us in his golden barge, but do you know why Set protects him from Apep each night?”

“No.” Ryou shook his head, smiling. “Why?”

“Because...he’s in love. What else would make the god of chaos and storms protect the sun? It’s because he loves everything golden—” Bakura’s eyes flicked toward Malik. “Including Ra.” 

Malik flushed, but didn't interrupt. That made Bakura grin. Beams of light broke the horizon and drew Bakura’s attention back to the sunrise. He savored the moment, all of them full, and together, laughing over muffins and cantaloupe. 

“The first time was an accident. Ra and Set happened to be together in the Duat, not expecting Apep to attack, arguing a little about this or that, but when the demon went to strike Ra, Set couldn’t stand it. He jumped in the way and took the blow himself. Afterward, Ra helped dress the wound, and they made love right there on the barge. After that, every night, Set travelled with Ra to keep him safe.”

“There is no evidence supporting that your story was ever part of Ancient Egyptian—”

“I know for a fact it’s a true story,” Bakura interrupted Seto. “The god Set himself told it to me as I sucked him off behind an Ancient Egyptian 7-11.” 

Everyone burst into laughter. Even the sun seemed to laugh as light trembled over the city below them. Once they calmed down, Ryou sank into his cocoon of blankets.

“It’s really cold out here.” 

“Let’s go home.” Seto stood. “Your real present is back at the mansion.” 

“I can’t wait.” Ryou grinned. 

***

Bakura and Malik sat in the game room. Seto was tweaking the final settings of their VR campaign, and their job was to distract Ryou for fifteen minutes while Seto finished. 

“So…” Ryou hummed in a sweet voice. “What did Seto make me for my birthday?”

“Make you? Isn’t he the type to buy you something?” Bakura snorted.

“No. He makes things. What good is an expensive gift from Seto? He gives me everything I want every day, but something he makes himself—that’s special.” 

“Maybe he glued some colored macaroni on a sheet of paper in the shape of a clown,” Bakura said. 

“That’d be sweet. I’d hang the picture of you right next to my mirror so I could always think of my best friend.” 

“I’d better take Bakura to the infirmary to get some ice for that burn you gave him.” Malik laughed. 

“Ha ha!” Bakura snorted. “Just remembered, I look like you.” 

“Sir.” The door opened, but it was one of the maids instead of Seto. 

“Yes, Hana?”

“Mr. Motou is here to see you.”

“Yugi!” Ryou cheered. “Please let him know we’re here. He’ll know the way himself.” 

Bakura groaned, burying his face into his hands. 

“Calm down, Bakura. Yugi’s not so bad.” Malik moved to Bakura’s side, inserting himself next to Bakura in his chair although it was a little small for the both of them. 

“Besides, it was his spell that brought you back,” Ryou reminded. “You should be glad he’s here.”

“Because it’s your birthday, I won’t stab him. I make no promises about his next visit.” 

A man pushed his way into the room, bright purple eyes and a warm smile on his face as he ran and hugged Ryou, shoving a present into Ryou’s hands. Bakura jumped to his feet. 

“For fuck’s sake, no! No way! This is absurd—first of all, what the fuck gym did you all go to while I was gone, and why is everyone but Ryou suddenly buff? Second of all, release that animal on your face back into the wild.” 

“Don’t like the beard, eh?” Yugi stood, rubbing his hand along the dark hair around his chin. His tri-colored hair was pulled back into a ponytail, the spikes sticking out in the back, but his beard was mostly dark except the few random stray gray hairs. “I think it makes me look adventurous.” 

“It makes you look like your grandfather.”

“You say that like an insult, but I’m proud to resemble my grandfather.” Yugi turned. “Hi, Malik! It’s good to see you again.”

“Hey, Yug.” Malik gave Yugi a brief hug. 

“Ew, ew no. Don’t call him Yug.” Bakura wrinkled his face. “That’s Jonouchi talk.” 

“He still doesn’t understand it’s been thirty years, not six months.” Malik laughed. 

“Thirty years isn’t long enough for me.” Yugi crossed his arms over his chest, eyeing Bakura. “For all the trouble you caused us.” 

Bakura stood in front of Yugi, sizing him up. He planted one hand against his hip, using the other one to gesture as he spoke. 

“You’re taller than Atem.”

“That’s because he didn’t live long enough to finish growing.” 

“Relatable.” 

Yugi dropped his gaze. “I’m sorry about what happened to Kul Elna.” 

The statement hit Bakura like a brick upside his head. He chose to stare at Malik instead of Yugi. Malik offered a sympathetic smile, so Bakura jerked his head to the bookcase instead.

“Least you made an effort—more than the last two pharaohs did.” 

“What’s in the package?” Ryou asked in a bright voice. 

“Open it, silly.” Yugi smiled. 

Ryou unwrapped the box and opened it. He pulled a golden chain out of the box. Dangling from the chain swung a scarab amulet carved from green nemehef stone. 

“It’s beautiful.” Ryou turned the scarab around, reading the inscription below Ryou’s named spelled with hieroglyphs. “ _Oh my heart, do not stand up as a witness against me, do not be opposed to me in the tribunal, do not be hostile to me in the presence of the Keeper of the Balance, for you are my ka which was in my body, the protector who made my members hale. Go forth to the happy place whereto we speed, do not make my name stink to the Entourage who make men. Do not tell lies about me in the present of the god. It is indeed well that you should hear.”_

“It’s from spell 30-B in the Book of the Dead,” Yugi fidgeted with his fingers. 

“I love it!” Ryou draped the pendant over his neck, slipping it beneath his shirt. “Thank you, Yugi. I’ll wear it for the rest of my life.”

Bakura burst into laughter. Malik smacked his shoulder. Yugi groaned.

“Ryou.” 

“It was funny. Bakura gets it.” 

“It’s not funny, though.” 

“Being tragic doesn’t stop something from being funny.” 

“It’s his birthday, he gets to joke however he wants,” Bakura said. 

“I can’t really argue with that.” Yugi sighed. “Still wish you wouldn’t, Ryou.” 

“Seto’s preparing my present, and knowing Seto, it’s a game—and I have a feeling it’s going to be a good one this year. Stay and play with us, Yugi.”

“Ah, I’d like to, but I have to go home. Panya’s sick, and Jonouchi is home by himself taking care of her.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that. If you need anything, please ask.” Ryou bowed his head. 

“Thank you, Ryou. Well, I guess I’d better—”

“Bring her here.” Bakura dropped into the chair again, a little annoyed at himself for what he was about to offer. 

“What? Bakura, i just said she’s sick.”

“I know that, you fool. I can cure her.”

Yugi gave Bakura a bitter laugh. “If you think I’d ever believe you could _heal_ someone—or let you anywhere near _my daughter_ —”

“Yugi,” Malik interrupted. “He’s being sincere.” 

“Bakura doesn’t know _how_ to be sincere.” 

“I sincerely wish I could drag Atem out of the afterlife and drown his soul in a lake of flaming sulfur—how’s _that_ for sincere?” Bakura growled. 

“See? He’s no different. You guys keep insisting he’s changed, but he’s only playing nice to buy enough time to do whatever horrible plot—” A beep interrupted Yugi. He checked his phone, eyes widening as he jerked his head up. “I have to go.”

“Is she getting worse?” Ryou frowned. “Yugi, you know our medical center is better than the hospital. Bring her here.” 

“I—” 

“Forget it. I’ll bring her here.” Ryou brought up his screen with his wrist band and typed something before closing the screen. “She’ll be here in ten minutes.” 

“Ryou, what did I tell you about using your Kaiba powers to interfere with my life?” 

“If you’re not going to allow Bakura to help, at least let my doctor see her. Although, you should simply let Bakura handle it.” 

“ _You’re_ still sick.” Yugi hugged himself. 

“Actually, he’s not sick,” Bakura snapped. “Technically speaking, nothing’s wrong with Ryou.”

“Doctor says the same.” Ryou shrugged. 

“Don’t you ever get tired defending him, Ryou?” Yugi looked hurt.

Ryou opened his mouth to reply, but Bakura grit his teeth, so hard cracks streaked across the glass of all the picture frames and glass ornaments in the room. Bakura’s jaw dropped, as surprised as everyone else. The effect had been subconscious. Yugi frowned at the broken glass and then Bakura. He didn’t say anything, but the silent accusation was clear: how can you heal a child? You’re only capable of destruction. 

“Doesn’t matter.” Bakura stormed out of the game room. 

He found himself in Malik’s sun room. The later daylight burnished the room, reminding Bakura of fire. He flinched, snapped his fingers, and the light filtered the room in beams of white and lavender—as if through colored glass. He dropped to Malik’s chaise, wanted something to toy with, and conjured a ball he could toss into the air and catch as he stared at the ceiling. Bakura’s ribcage felt the wrong size.

“You tried.”

Malik’s voice, Bakura shifted his gaze toward the door. 

“I’ll fix the glass, but I had to get out of there before I cracked Yugi’s face open.”

“Glad we share sensation and not powers. I’d hate to see what I’d do—more than crack glass. I like what you did with the lights.” Malik stepped into the room. 

“Whatever. I wouldn’t trust me to take care of a kid either. I don’t know what I was thinking when I offered. Maybe I wanted to see if I could really do it.”

“You know you can.” Malik sat beside him, resting his hand on Bakura’s knee. 

“For all the good it does. Can’t save Ryou. Can’t save some kid. Can’t get pissed off without breaking something, apparently.” 

“You’ve never broken anything before. I think Yugi pushes a special button in you.” 

“Yeah, a big fucking golden one with the Eye of Wadjet carved into it.” Bakura’s hand dropped. The ball rolled across the floor. “I know why he’s short with me. He blames me, and he’s not wrong. How’s the kid anyway?”

“They’re all in the medical wing, but Jonouchi was there so I slipped out. He smiles at me with his face, but not his eyes, you know? Not so much different than you and Yugi.” 

“You keep saying I don’t realize how much time has passed, but has anything really changed? Seems to me it’s still us versus them.”

“ _We’ve changed_. It’s enough.” 

“ _Heh_.” Bakura grinned at Malik. “You know, out of all the surprise hookups you’ve mentioned, those two were the only ones I saw coming even years ago.”

“Yeah. I suspected as much the day Jonouchi broke my mind control over him.” Malik shrugged. “It takes a very strong love to be able to reject Shadow Magic.” 

“So, think Seto’s pissed off because he couldn’t show off his fancy present to Ryou?” Bakura changed the subject, not wanting to think of Battle City at that moment. 

“Normally, I’d say yes, but he spoils Yugi and Jounouchi kid's rotten, as bad as Mokuba’s kids, so he was worried about Panya as well.” 

“Probably the flu or something. Sure we’ll get to gaming before dinner’s ready.” 

“Maybe we should eat now. You know once we start the game, we’re not stopping.” 

“You’re right.” Bakura winked. 

Bakura offered Malik his hand and allowed Malik to pull him to his feet. He wrapped his arm around Malik’s waist as they walked toward the kitchen. Before they made it to the doorway, Ryou zoomed toward them on his carpet. 

“Bakura—” Ryou shouted, but didn’t have to finish the sentence. Bakura knew. 

The panic in Ryou’s eyes. The way his already sickly, pale skin was fever-tattooed and white beyond a ghost’s vapors. Something was wrong in the medical center. Bakura didn’t think. _He acted_. Wholly on instinct. Thus, he didn’t understand how he managed to teleport them directly to the medical wing. Ryou screamed his name, and he scooped them up in field of heka and _was there_ in an instant, because Ryou needed him there. 

Seto screamed at the medical personnel as they rushed around the bed. A machine beside the bed beeped in shrill, rapid succession. Jonouchi was on his knees, knuckles white as he gripped the safety rail of the bed. Yugi looked like he was praying, but Bakura didn’t have time to be pissed about what gods Yugi would pray to. 

“Everybody shut up!” Bakura roared over the chaos. He marched to the bed, scooped the girl into his arms, used magic to disconnect her from all the machines and wires, and carried her away from the panic. She was thin and gangly, as tall as Bakua had been in his former life, but two or three years younger by the look of her. Bakura carried her to an empty bed and sat her up, stroking the wiry brown curls crowning her head.

Her eyes fluttered opened. Dead silence followed in the room save for the eerie flatline wail of the heart monitor from being disconnected. Bakura snapped and the machine stopped. He searched the girl’s brown eyes, mind scanning her “code” for things he could hack. Not only ridding her of the virus and secondary infections that were shutting down her respiratory system, but searching for future problems he could tweak. Genetic predisposition for heart disease? Not any more. Stigmatism? Eh, he’ll pretend like he didn’t fix that one and let them figure out why she didn’t need glasses anymore later. 

“Think you can drink this for me?” Bakura held a steaming mug to the girl. 

She nodded, accepting it. 

“Good kid.” Bakura nodded, walking away. 

“What’s in the cup?” Jonouchi’s voice demanded behind Bakura. 

“Hot chocolate.”

“Bakura.” Yugi’s voice cracked. 

He stopped, glancing over his shoulder. The tears gleamed as they ran down Yugi’s cheeks and into his beard. Bakua thought about shaving the beard with magic, but remembered he needed to go fix the glass in the game room. He left, took a secret shortcut to the gameroom, and reevaluated the damage he’d caused. Bakura clapped his hands, mending the cracks with his will. Too easy. It was too fucking easy to fix everything that wasn’t Ryou. 

“Bakura.” Yugi’s voice disrupted his thoughts. 

“It’s fine.” Bakura exhaled. “I don’t want a heart-to-heart, Yugi.” 

“She was _dying_.” Yugi choked on half a sob. “She was surrounded by some of the best medical staff _in the world_ and _dying_ because she couldn’t breathe.” 

Yugi’s words made Bakura suck in a deep breath. Memories of coughing and wheezing at night when the desert air stung cold in his chest plagued him. His thoughts devoured him whole; he didn’t notice Yugi walking up to him and facing him until Yugi touched his shoulder. 

“What?” Bakura hissed, adrenaline coursing through him from the flashback. 

“I said thank you.”

“No.” Bakura shook his head. “It’s not enough.”

“The doctor said she’s completely healed.”

“She’ll live long enough to hate it.” Bakura snorted, pacing the length of the game room. Sweat dripped down his neck because of how hot they kept the room for Ryou. “But it’s not enough. I can go save 98 more children but that won’t atone for the village I failed. I can save 100 more after that and it won’t redeemed me for killing Ryou.” Bakura tilted his head up, dragging his fingers through his hair. “In order to heal him, I honed the powers of a fucking mesiah, but he’s still out of time and there’s fuckall I can do.” 

“But now I believe you when you say you’re trying.” Yugi pulled a handkerchief out of his vest pocket to wipe his face. 

“Full offense, but I never gave a fuck what you thought of me.” Bakura dropped to the ground, hugging his knees to his chest and cackling like the fiend everyone thought he was. “Know what’s funny? If I put my mind to it, I could probably rip your precious Atem right off his eternal throne and throttle him out of existence with my bare hands, but…”

Bakura’s voice broke. He broke. He didn’t weep. Tears would be a relief, but he was shattered beyond them. He glanced up at Yugi. 

“I don’t care anymore. I’ll never forgive what the royal family did to _my_ family, but I’d give up all the power I gained if it meant saving Ryou, all right?” 

The door opened and shut; Jonouchi walked into the room. 

“Bakura.” He stared at Bakura, gaze hard. “We owe you.”

“Yeah? You owe me do you? Then fucking tell the gods to take it back.” Bakura tugged at his hair, pressing his forehead against his knees. “Take that fucking game back. For once in my life I _regret_ something.” 

“I don’t know what powers you think _I_ have, but I promise you I can’t beg favors from the gods, or Panya would have never gotten sick in the first place.” Yugi shook his head. 

“They’re such shit gods.” Bakura laughed, the sound as cracked as the plate still hiding in the cubby hole in his bedroom. 

“Sometimes.” Jonouchi laughed. 

“I don’t want thanks.” Bakura stared at his bare feet. Kaiba insisted they wear house slippers, but he never did. “I don’t want forgiveness. I’m not a saint. I’m not out there curing the blind and lame. I’m just an asshole, and I didn't have a reason _not_ to help. That’s all. It took thirty seconds. It wasn’t special. It was like tying a shoe, so take her home and we can forget I ever did something nice, okay?”

Seto walked into the room next. The sweat tickling Bakura’s body turned cold. Bakura stood, slept walked toward Seto, his mind blank, but his heart already knew. It wasn’t Panya. The grief in Seto’s eyes was too raw for that. Bakura held Seto’s shoulders.

“Is he…”

“He lost consciousness while we were talking to Panya,” Seto’s voice rasped. Tears trickled down his cheeks. “Doctor said he won’t wake up...told us we should say goodby—” 

He cracked, collapsing in Bakura’s arms. They embraced like brothers as they wept, and all their petty arguments were shoved aside. In that moment, they clung together, keening in each other’s arms.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the abrupt ending of the last chapter (and because this one doesn't end much better) I'm trying to post a little early.
> 
> The first half of this chapter is probably the most emotional part of the entire story (at least for me, it is) 
> 
> But damn, y'gotta love Seto at the end of this chapter. He's such a crazy fuck; he really is the best character ever.

The maids brought chairs to the hallway outside Ryou’s bedroom door. Seto paced along the hall as Yugi and Jounouchi went into Ryou’s room and said their goodbyes. Malik sat to Bakura’s right, but Bakura was turned slightly left, teaching Panya how to hold a sphere of light in her palms to distract her from the stress she was clearly picking up from all the adults. 

“Good,” He said. “Now, can you feel the yellow in it?”

“You can’t feel yellow, Bakura,” Seto snapped as he paced. “It’s a visual descriptor.” 

Bakura’s eyes flicked to Seto, but then his gaze returned to Panya. He ignored Seto and waited for her answer. She twisted her mouth into a knot, nodded. 

“Okay, now right and slow will bring it toward red, but left and fast will take it toward violet.”

“Like this?” The sphere deepened to a bright green. 

“Bingo.” Bakura gestured with his hands to explain himself. “Up and warm for white, down and cool for dark.”

“Oh, I get it.” Panya stared at the ball of light in her hands as it paled to a minty color. 

“Cardinal directions, coarse or fine, let’s you do just about anything.” 

The sphere shrank, glowed a warm pink color, and condensed into a star shape

“You’re smarter than both your fathers put together.” Bakura grinned. 

“It’s very nice,” Malik said, his voice thick from the tears he had only managed to quell once Panya had joined them. 

“Thank you, Mr. Ishtar.” Panya beamed. 

Bakura felt Malik’s queasiness at the name, but Malik only smiled and nodded at her. Bakura reached over to squeeze Malik’s hand. At the same moment, the door to Ryou’s room opened, and Jounouchi and Yugi stepped into the hall, both drying their wet cheeks. 

“Doesn’t feel that long, you know? Since we were all a bunch of nerdy teenagers.” Jounouchi sniffed, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

“Don’t worry. You’re still a bunch of nerds.” Bakura snorted. The response was automatic, mind replying before he managed to think about the words. His chest was caved in; there wasn’t enough room between his ribs for humor _or_ snarky one-liners, but they sprung to his lips regardless. 

Seto laughed more than he should have. The stress and broken emotions slipping through the cracks of his emotional walls like pressurized steam. 

“I remember the first time I really met you.” Malik shook his head in Jonouchi’s direction. “Those guys were going to jump Ryou for stealing their Duel Disk, and you jumped in there and beat their asses.” 

“ _Ryou_ would never steal someone’s Duel Disk.” Jonouchi shot Bakura a sharp glance. 

“Never mind. That wasn’t the best memory to bring up.” Malik winced. 

“No, probably not.” Jounouchi’s jaw clenched. 

“What about our trip to New York?” Yugi interrupted to diffuse the situation. “Remember? We all went to watch Anzu perform for her first big event. It was amazing.” 

“Ryou ate an _entire cheesecake_ by himself.” Malik laughed, smacking Bakura’s shoulder to catch his attention. “We kept betting when he’d get sick, but not only was he fine, but later that night, he ordered two hot dogs and some chili cheese fries from a food truck.” 

“And then we decided we wanted we wanted to go to a strip club because it sounded risqué.” Yugi laughed. “But it was smoky, and loud, and you and Ryou were clearly not into any of the women.” 

“Yeah, we went back to the room together after that. I thought maybe I preferred guys since the girls weren’t interesting.” Malik blushed. “Ryou and I made out on the bed for like fifteen minutes before I decided I didn’t like guys either.” 

“You made out with Ryou.” Seto’s jaw dropped.

“Like twenty-five years ago!” Tears streamed down Malik’s face. “He didn’t even get upset when I asked to stop. He just grabbed my hand and dragged me across the street to the roller rink, and we rollerbladed until the place closed for the night.” 

“I remember how hard you guys were laughing when we came back.” Yugi smeared tears off his own face. 

“Look, you guys can reminisce later. Go home for now.” Bakura flicked his head in Panya’s direction. She sat unnaturally straight and quiet, the light gone from her now clasped hands. 

“Sorry, sweetie. It’s late. Come on.” Yugi mussed her hair. 

She looked at Bakura. “Thank you again for helping me. Are you going to help Ryou, too?”

“Don’t know how.” Bakura shook his head. “Magic can’t fix everything.”

“Why were you able to save me but not Ryou?” Her expression crumbled. “What good is magic if it doesn’t help everyone equally?” 

“Why don’t you show them what Bakura taught you.” Seto said before she could ask more questions. 

She pursed her lips, debating if she should listen to Seto or not. In the end she held up her palm to display a sphere of light. 

“That’s pretty good.” Jounouchi grinned at her. “Your dad can do that too.”

“See?” Yugi held up his hand to show a matching sphere. 

“Show ‘em what else you can do.” Bakura nudged her with his elbow. 

Panya cupped her opposite hand on top of the first one, crushing the sphere, but when she opened her palms again, a pale ume blossom sat in her hands. 

“That’s amazing.” Yugi stared at the light with his jaw dropped. He looked up at Bakura. “H-how?” 

“Not sure why I can do half the shit I do. Maybe because I was brought back with magic.”

“Language, Bakura,” Jounouchi scolded. 

“Well, I think it’s great,” Yugi said to Panya. “Can you do other colors?” 

She displayed a few random shapes and colors, filling the hallway with flashes of light each time the sphere shifted. Yugi and Jounouchi both clapped with she was finished. 

“See them smiling? That’s what magic’s good for. Use science for everything else,” Seto said, his hands crammed into his pockets while he leaned against the opposite wall. 

“Is that why you never bothered learning magic?” Jounouchi raised an eyebrow as he asked the question. 

Seto gave him a dry smile, but it wilted on his face as his gaze shifted to Malik. “You should go next.”

Malik nodded, silent. He squeezed Bakura’s shoulder for a second and then stood.

“Hey, visit again. I know Ryou and you were closest, but...we’re your friends too, okay?” Yugi grabbed Malik in a quick embrace. 

“Yeah, keep in touch.” Jonouchi patted Malik’s shoulder. 

“Sure,” Malik said, and Bakura didn’t need their connection to know he was lying, but he didn’t say anything as Malik dashed into Ryou’s room. 

“Come here.” Seto extended a single arm toward Panya, the rest of him still leaning against the wall. She returned the half-hug with both her arms. Seto raised a single finger in warning. “Don’t show off that new trick in school. You know the rule about nonsense in class.” 

“You mean magic?” Yugi grinned. 

“I said what I meant.” 

“I know.” Panya nodded. 

“The real rule about magic is—it’s only wrong if you get caught.” Bakura winked, making Panya smile. 

“Bakura. No.” Yugi groaned. 

“Oh like you never interacted with the Puzzle during school.” Bakura rolled his eyes into his head.

“That’s not the same.” Yugi rubbed his temple. “Anyway, we’re actually going this time. We have a lot of phone calls to make, and Asim is alone watching over the younger two.”

“Later, you rich old fuck.” Jonouchi punched Seto’s shoulder and lead Panya down the hall. 

“Later, loser.” Seto snorted. 

Yugi stood in front of him, much taller than in their teen years, but still dwarfed by Seto’s height. They stood in silence for a moment, before Seto straightened so Yugi could give him a proper hug. 

“I’m going to let everyone know tonight. It’s okay if we visit again tomorrow, right?”

“Yes,” Seto said. “I can send the jet to anyone who needs it.”

“Probably Anzu and Mai. Everyone else should be able to make it on their own.” Yugi pulled away. 

Seto nodded. 

“Seto, I’m sorry—”

“Don’t. You know I don’t want to hear it.”

“Did you try the Cube? Maybe Diva knows—” 

“I’m not letting _him_ anywhere _near_ Ryou. Regardless, you know damn well the Plana’s gone, and that Cube is useless unless you feel like making a trip you might not be able to come back from.” 

“You’re not going to go again, are you?” 

“No.” Seto interrupted, crossing his arms over his chest. “I would, but Ryou and I dueled over it and I lost.” 

“Dammit, Seto. You never change.” Yugi shook his head. 

“I don’t intend to.” 

Yugi spun, staring at Bakura. 

“Don’t say sorry to me either. I don’t want to hear it anymore than Seto does.” Bakura stared at the carpet. 

“I can’t even thank you—”

“Nope. Not that conversation either.”

“Bakura, I’m sorry—”

“Yugi. No.”

“Well, what the fuck should I say then?” Yugi smacked his hands on his sides. “I’m trying.” 

Bakura peeked up at Yugi. His white fringe half-blinded him, but he didn’t push the mess away. 

“How about, see you later?” 

“Okay.” Yugi held out his hand. “See you later, Bakura.” 

Bakura gave Yugi’s hand a blank stare. He was numb inside, unable to be angry as Malik’s grief strummed through their magic connection. He shook Yugi’s hand and watched him go. The moment Yugi was out of sight and ear-shot, Seto raked his fingers through his hair. 

“I’m so fucking glad they’re gone. I only have so much patience for their emotional bullshit.” 

“Want a drink?” Bakura asked, pulling a flask from thin air.

“What’s in it?” Seto asked.

“Anything you want. I’m fucking magic, baby.” 

“Scotch.” Seto slumped into the chair next to Bakura so they could pass the flask back and forth. “It’s good.”

“Keep the flask, you’ll need it tomorrow.” 

“We never got to play. It’s unacceptable.” Seto laughed, the same loud, broken laugh as before. 

“Yeah. Life has a way of being pretty fucking unacceptable.” Bakura paused with the flask half way up to his lips. “The fuck exactly is the Plana? Malik didn’t do a good job explaining it.” 

“More magical bullshit.” Seto waved off the statement with a swipe of his hand, stealing the flask from Bakura and taking a nip. He snorted. “You said being brought back with magic increased your own powers, but I think it’s a stronger effect because of that damn village.” 

“You mean Kul Elna?” Bakura swiped the flask back, drinking this time.

Seto nodded. 

“So Panya—”

“They’re all from Egypt, but yes, she’s from your old village.” 

“That makes sense. We always were good with magic.” Bakura sipped from the flask again. “So the Planna let you change reality?”

“Something like that.” Seto waved his fingers in the air in a mocking gesture. “They were going to create the perfect world free of evil.” Seto snorted. “For how long? Change the world all you want, someone will come and shit on it minutes later.” 

“Probably me.” Bakura gave a single, hollow laugh. 

“If it weren’t for card games, Mokuba, his family, and Ryou, I would have built a Blue Eyes White Dragon Death Ray and scorched Domino City by now.” 

“Nnnnneat.” 

“Seto!” Someone called from down the hall, racing forward.

Seto stood up as the other man threw his arms around Seto and bear-hugged him. Bakura looked at them. He thought he recognized the dark hair, but he was having trouble admitting who was standing a centimeter or two taller than Seto. 

“Gods be damned, you got tall.” 

“Yeah.” Mokuba pulled back, sniffing and rubbing at glassy eyes. “Seto’s the little brother now.” 

“Never,” Seto protested. 

“Seto, I’m sorry.” Mokuba grabbed Seto in another hug. 

A second passed. Bakura expected them to part again; instead, Seto trembled and sobbed. Bakura stared at his hands, but Seto’s broken voice echoed down the hallway. 

“I didn’t even have the chance to show him his birthday present, Moki. I was bringing it to him when Jounouchi and Yugi rushed down the hall with Panya. Doctors couldn’t help her. Bakura showed up and pulled his fairy godmother bullshit, and then we were celebrating, when Ryou fell off his carpet.” 

Bakura bristled at the term _fairy godmother_ , but didn’t dare speak as Seto poured out in his brother’s arms. Seto’s shoulders shook as he cried, and Bakura bit the inside of his cheek. 

“And they said he won’t wake up this time. He hardly has a pulse, and his blood pressure is so low he shouldn’t be able to breathe…” Seto wiped at his face. “But he is breathing, because he’s a fucking Kaiba, and Kaibas don’t lose.”

“Damn right.” Mokuba nodded his head. 

Bakura opened his mouth, another automatic response on the tip of his tongue— _you mean because he’s fucking a Kaiba_. Before he spoke, Malik stepped into the hall. Mokuba greeted him. They talked. Bakura heard none of it. He stood. He walked to the doorway, sensing it was his turn. Seto would want to stay with Ryou all night, so Bakura should go. He didn’t remember entering, or shutting the door, or walking into the room, but he sat on the bed, stroking Ryou’s hair with shaking fingers. Bakura jerked to his feet, walking to the window and gazing at the stars above them. 

“Don’t think I don’t see the irony of this—it’s devouring me. How many times after a Monster World game would you stand over a friend, crying and begging for forgiveness because you suspected their coma was your fault?” He glanced over his shoulder at Ryou’s unconscious body. “But it was my fault, and this is my fault too— _Fuck_.” 

Bakura paced, hands locked behind his back. His mind whirled. 

“I’m supposed to be in here saying goodbye, but...I don’t know how.” Bakura stared at the ceiling. “Never had a chance to say goodbye before. To anyone.” He choked on his words, pushing through nonetheless. “This is why caring _sucks_ , Ryou. I feel like I’m the one dying. Malik feels like _he’s_ the one dying, and I don’t even want to know what Seto feels. You would have never even gotten hurt had you not cared for your friends more than your own life. Hurt…” Bakura burst into bitter laughter, dragging his fingers down his face. “I’m talking like you skinned your knee—you wouldn’t have _died_ , and you wouldn’t be _dying_. And that’s still not right, because I know your every action was a reaction to _me_. I caused this. _Fuck_!”

Bakura spun toward the bed. “Don’t think I can say goodbye…”

The air hummed around them, too quiet in Bakura’s ears. He walked to Ryou with slow, hesitant steps. Ryou already looked dead, his cheeks sunken in, his eyes dark-shadowed. Only his shallow breath gave any indication of life. 

_I did this_. 

“How about _see you later_?” A cracked smile marred Bakura’s expression. He turned away, walking back to the windows. His face reflected in the glass, but the stars twinkled through him. “Your mom’s up there, and your sister, and soon you. If anything, I should be congratulating you. Haven’t seen my family in over 3,000 years, but I never stopped thinking about them. You’re probably excited to see yours again. _Heh_ , guess I’m selfish and want you to stay longer because I’m still here. Look at this—”

Bakura walked back to the bed. The plate appeared in his hands, the mother-of-pearl-patched one Ryou fixed six months ago. Bakura’s reflection flashed on the surface of the plate. He was crying again. 

“I kept it,” he said. Then he repeated it, more softly. “I kept it. I made a huge scene about not caring, but I fucking care, and—useless as it is—I _am_ sorry.” Bakura pressed his burning forehead to the cool glass of the plate. “Ryou, I can’t do a damn thing to save you, but I can look after them for you. All of them. All the people you care about.”

Bakura dropped onto the bed beside Ryou. He hugged the plate to his chest and rocked as dripping tears stained the knees of his jeans. 

“Not that I’ll be good at it, mind you! I’m not you, not good at being positive or cheerful, but I owe you. So after you leave, I’ll make sure they eat, and I won’t let Seto do anything _too_ stupid, and I’ll try not to let Malik get depressed. I won’t run off. I won’t steal the Items. I won’t yank Atem from the Duat and throttle him—though he deserves it because the gods are shit. I’ll stick around, do what I can, and when I leave Domino, it’ll be with Malik to go home, not to—” Bakura sniffed, snot leaking from his nose. “Not to go get myself shoved back in the Shadow Realm after another failed attempt for justice. But you better find my mom and tell her I miss her after you’re done catching up with your own mother.”

Bakura sniffed again. He twisted to look at Ryou, pressing Ryou’s scarred palm against the mended plate. 

“Do you hear me? I’m going to take care of them for you, so you can go—if you’re tired, if you’re hurting—you can go, Ryou. We’ll be okay.” 

The plate disappeared, he’d transported it back to his cubby under his old bed. Bakura gripped Ryou’s skeletal hands. He tried to say more; his voice cracked. If he could filibuster death, Bakura would monologue forever. Ryou didn’t move, not even a twitch of his lips or a flutter of his eyelashes. He remained comatose, he continued to die even as Bakura wept and squeezed Ryou’s cold hands.

***

“Bakura.” Malik pressed his hands on Bakura’s shoulders. 

“What?” Bakura’s voice cracked. 

“Come on. We need to give Mokuba and Seto some time.”

Bakura didn’t protest as Malik helped him to his feet and lead him to their bedroom. Malik turned down the bed for them. He held Bakura's face, his own a tear-stained reflection of Bakura’s grief. 

“It’s okay.” 

“I know.” Bakura nodded, clasping onto Malik’s forearms. 

“It’s not okay.” Malik shattered, crashing against Bakura’s chest and wailing.

“I know.” Bakura pulled Malik beneath the covers and held him. 

His own tears leaked from his eyes. He sniffed, but lay silent as Malik sobbed. Over time, Malik’s sorrow quieted to whimpers, then to half-asleep sniffles. Bakura held Malik even after he fell asleep, but refused to shut his own eyes. Memories of the fire replayed in his thoughts. Memories of Ryou visiting his comatose friends in the hospital repeated in his mind. Memories of losing against the Pharaoh during his last attempt of vengeance, of drowning in the Shadows afterward, of being pulled out by Malik and Ryou and blinking at the lights with blind eyes—he couldn’t escape the memories as they looped. He fumbled around the bed and nightstand for a distraction. His fingers grazed the pages of a book and he grabbed it. 

Bringing the cover to his face, he saw the last manga in the series Ryou lent him. Bakura sighed, deciding anything was better than his thoughts. The two lovers had gone their separate ways after discovering they weren’t each other’s destined match. Most of the issue showed them lonely and depressed, until the end.

Bakura flipped to the second to last page. The protagonist opened his front door to see his love interest standing in the doorway with a determined look. The protagonist asked what the other man was doing there when they knew they weren’t—

The love interest kissed the protagonist, screaming that he didn’t care about destiny or their threads. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with the protagonist. Bakura turned to the last spread of pages. The characters dropped to the sofa, fingers laced and lips locked as they swore to carve out their own destiny together.

“Malik, you fucking sap.” Bakura chuckled beneath his breath, setting the graphic novel back onto the nightstand. 

“Hmmm?” Malik asked, stirring in Bakura’s arms. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you. I finished those graphic novels.”

“Yeah?” Malik smiled. “What did you think?”

“I think you’re a fucking sap.” 

“Maybe I am, but you have to admit, a story about broken characters tossing aside fate and choosing their own destiny strikes a chord, doesn’t it?” 

“I love you.” Bakura buried his face in Malik’s hair. 

Malik reached out for him, his fingers dancing across Bakura’s shoulders. They brushed their cheeks against each other. Eyes closed, Bakura lost himself in the feel, scent, and warmth of Malik. Malik’s nose ghosted up Bakura’s throat, his cheek. Their lips bumped together and they latched on. Their sadness, their pain, echoed through each other, but their kisses soothed their broken hearts, reminded them, though they were losing someone great and precious, they weren’t alone. They were together. 

The moment absorbed Bakura so fully, that when Seto slammed open the door and crashed into their room, Bakura was caught off-guard. He jumped onto the mattress, flicking his pocket knife open and screaming in surprise with Malik. 

Bakura’s pulse froze. “Oh gods, is Ryou—”

“No!” Seto screamed, panting, sweat-stains soaking through his shirt. “Not yet. Put your wrist bands on. We have a game to play.” 

“Seto” Malik shook his head. “Ryou’s unconscious. We can’t—”

“ _Can’t_ is the one four letter word I won’t allow in this house.” Seto stared at them with a blazing gaze. The blue of his eyes was otherworldly, the spark of a will-o-the-wisp instead of a man. His grin was manic. “I managed to modify the medical scanner prototype and merge it with the VR software. Ryou’s already connected, and it’s still his birthday—let’s make sure every last second is good.”

Malik stared at Bakura, questioning if they should play along or find Mokuba. Bakura nodded.

“Better for him to die doing something he loves that rotting in a fucking bed. Let’s go.” 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not my fault this chapter cuts out before the grand climax-- it was supper long already and I had to put everything else in ch19!!! (also, I'm glancing over ch19 rn and fucking screaming)
> 
> MILD DISCLAIMER: Video game typical amounts of gore and violence.

They set up in Ryou’s room. Mokuba slept in an overstuffed chair in the corner, Seto’s jacket lay slung over him as he snored lightly. They were careful not to wake him, knowing he’d been putting in extra hours at Kaiba Corp so Seto could take time off. Malik and Bakura sat with their backs against the sideboard of the bed and adjusted the straps on their wrists. 

“Stuff like this used to hurt,” Malik whispered, rolling his shoulders to call attention to his back. 

Bakura bumped their shoulders together, giving Malik’s hand a final squeeze before turning on his ear piece and logging into the system. Flying through space, Bakura found the others floating in a circle. Even in the stupid game simulation—he was thrilled to see Ryou’s character. Bakura linked hands with Malik and Ryou in order to complete the circle and start their game. The second they were in the village, Ryou jumped into Seto’s arms, his white dragon tail swinging. A half dragon, he had reptilian wings, tail, legs and claws, but looked more or less the same. 

“Seto! You’re so clever!”

“Happy birthday,” Seto whispered, grinning, unrecognizable from the weeping, grieving Seto of an hour ago. 

“This was my surprise? My own Monster World game?” 

“One you could play with your friends no matter how far away they lived.” 

“Oh Seto. Seto, I love you so much.” 

Bakura glanced away as they kissed. Malik was the one to clear his throat and stop them. 

“Sorry, I’m just so happy!” Ryou jumped in place. “Ah! It’s been so long since I could stand up and walk! This feels incredible! And everything is so __realistic__.” 

“Including the damage, so try not to get hit.” Malik shot an irritated glance at Seto. 

“That’s amazing!” Ryou twirled with his arms airplained out beside him. 

Bakura stared at Ryou. He acted more vibrant than he had in months, but his face was still sallow, and his eyes still dark. He brought up Ryou’s character sheet and stared at his stats. 

“I loaded up our last Monster World characters for the sake of the game,” Seto said as Bakura ran through numbers. “I knew we wouldn’t have time to level grind.”

“I’m fond of my dragon character, so I look forward to playing him again.” 

“Your max HP is only 350,” Bakura said. 

“What level are we?” Ryou asked. 

“Malik and I are level 19. You and Seto are 21. The rest of us are in the 1000’s, but you only have 350.” He looked at Ryou. “That’s why I can’t heal you. HP is full. It’s just too low.”

“Makes sense.” Ryou nodded. 

“No it doesn’t.” Seto crossed his arms over his chest, face scowling. 

“Don’t be so matter-of-fact with it.” Bakura continued to address Ryou. “Shit. Okay. Maybe I can work with this. I’m going to hack the system and change your stats.” 

“Quit messing with my code,” Seto hissed. 

“I’ll fuck with your code and God’s. Stop me if you can,” Bakura growled, staring at the floor with a concentrated look. 

“Seto, if he increases Ryou’s HP, it could have an affect on his health out of the game.”

“That isn’t logical by any stretch of the imagination. I’ve seen him give you money, that didn’t create money in real life.” 

“But Shadow Magic was originally involved and sometimes that lets you cheat physics. Besides, I could turn an apple into gold in real life if I wanted to,” Bakura said. “Magic is rewriting reality’s code, so if I figure it out in the game—fuck. Fuck!” Bakura kicked a pot, shattering it and revealing a small bag of coins. “Nothing works! This is bullshit!”

“It’s okay, Bakura.” Ryou patted his arm. 

“It’s not! You’re laying in a bed and dying right at this moment and I can’t save you!”

“No. You can’t.” Ryou threw his arms around Bakura. “But we can play games all night and have fun one last time. This is what I want. Come on. Is everybody ready?” 

“Up all night playing RPGs, just like old times.” Bakura forced his features into a queasy grin. 

Coughing from the next room drew Ryou’s attention. He wandered through the doorway and saw the sick girl laying in bed. This prompted the initial quest, and soon they were marching through the woods in search of ingredients for a potion side quest. 

“Be careful, I scaled the monsters appropriately with our level,” Seto explained. 

“Ryou’s HP isn’t high enough,” Malik said. 

“We’ll have to make sure he doesn’t get hit.” Bakura used every buff in his spell inventory.

“I enjoy playing with a handicap. Challenging games are more fun.” Ryou smiled, holding Seto’s hand as they walked through the village. “So… Bakura, white sorcerer?” 

“Like you said, challenging games are more interesting.” 

“But don’t you think it’s ironic? Had I known, I would have asked Seto to build me a thief character.” 

“You wouldn’t be half the thief I was.”

“I’ll take that bet… If we ever get a chance to play again.” 

They all fell into silence, marching quickly as if they could outrun the inevitability of Ryou’s death looming above them. Since they were pre-equipped, they skipped the shops and headed for the next village. Ryou twisted and turned as he walked, taking in the scenery that had become commonplace to Bakura and Malik as they’d played. 

“I can’t get over how beautiful everything is.” 

“You’ll get sick of it soon enough. It’s our third playthrough and I am done with pastures and scenic woods,” Bakura said. 

“Yes, because the desert was so much more varied and interesting.” Malik snorted. “I never get tired of the settings in this game.” 

“You both played before?” Ryou asked. 

“They were beta testers. A mistake.” Seto glared at Bakura. 

“You’re just mad that I installed that sex mod into the game without permission.” 

“First mod for any new game is always a sex mod. We’re pretty used to it,” Ryou said. “But you do realize all beta games are monitored, right? Three dozen different researchers and programmers probably saw you.” 

“What?” Malik spun to look back at Ryou. Feathers scattering from his wings in his agitation. 

“Hope they enjoyed the show!” Bakura laughed, and laughed harder when Seto and Malik got into an argument about privacy. He didn’t notice the bandits attacking until an arrow bounced off his magical shield. 

“Our first battle, how exciting!” Ryou’s tail wagged. 

Bakura, Seto, and Malik all rushed in front of Ryou, attacking before Ryou could get near the bandits. 

“Don’t hog the fun.” Ryou pouted. 

“You can’t take many hits, so we have to guard you,” Seto insisted. 

“I’m sorry, but we’re not playing this way.” Ryou flew over them and crashed toward the next group of bandits. 

His attack left him open for a counterattack. His shield shattered against the blow of a mace. With a roar, Seto beheaded the bandit before he could attack Ryou; Bakura cast new shields on everyone afterward. 

“Ryou, stay close,” Seto ordered. 

“Seto, this is my birthday present and I’m going to play it—not watch the rest of you.” 

“Fine...but stay close.” Seto huffed in frustration. 

“Okay.” Ryou bound his arms around Seto’s waist. 

“We...should hurry. I want you to see as much of the game as possible before…”

“Of course.” Ryou broke their embrace and marched down the path. 

Malik’s expression crashed as he watched Ryou and Seto. Bakura rested his hand on the back of Malik’s wing, guiding him forward as they followed Ryou. Bakura kept himself in the back during their next random encounter, allowing Ryou to fight—he was their tank, after all—and focusing on keeping Ryou buried beneath a stack of shields and buffs. Easy enough to do during random encounters despite Seto setting the game’s difficulty to maximum option, but Bakura worried about their first boss. In Ryou’s current state, Bakura wasn’t sure what dying in the game would do to Ryou’s already dying body laying in his room. Gritting his teeth, Bakura swore they’d just have to play without letting Ryou KO. 

They saw the first dead body about 2 kilometers away from the next village. Malik stayed back, but Ryou bent right over the corpse, jabbing at it with a stick. 

“Seto, you’ve outdone yourself. Ugh, that smell, my eyes are watering from it. This game is going to revolutionize the market!” 

“I wanted you to have a game you’d love.” Seto shook his head, as if to say he didn’t care about the market. 

“And I do love it!” Ryou hurried forward. “Let’s see what other disgusting things are ahead!” 

More bodies poxed the side of the road. Fresh corpses, at first, but the later ones were decayed and bursting with maggots. Then they saw a half-eaten corpse, and Ryou squealed with delight, already suspecting what sort of side quest they were about to have. Individual corpses became piles of burning dead. A man sat beside one of the pires, holding a bleeding wound and gasping. 

“Bakura, he’s hurt. You should heal him,” Ryou said as they stepped closer. 

“Heal him?” The thought had never occurred to Bakura. He and Malik had always pumped him for information and he would turn into a zombie after the conversation ended. 

“Of course heal him! You’re a white sorcerer. That’s your job!”

“O...kay. I guess?” Bakura glanced at Seto, who shrugged. 

Hearing no protests, Bakura cast Cure Disease as well as Heal. Not only did the bloody bite mark mend, but the man’s fevered appearance grew healthy and lively. He jumped up, patted himself down, and laughed the sort of laugh only a trauma survivor could manage. He gave Ryou a small ring and raced far away from the town. 

“Oh hey, we never had that happen before.” Malik elbowed Ryou. “Good job.” 

“Thanks for curing him, Bakura.” Ryou examined the ring in his hand. It wasn’t equipable, so he pocketed it for the time being. 

“Sure.” Bakura shrugged. 

A few steps later, walking corpses lurched toward them from the woods surrounding them. 

“There were never this many.” Malik scanned the battle area, frowning. “What the hell?” 

“Did you not get the ring last time?” Ryou asked.

“No. You can’t loot it off his corpse after he turns.” 

“Oh, I guess this is my fault then. Or at least the ring’s.” 

“What do you mean?” Bakura asked. 

“I’m a half-dragon, identifying treasure is one of my specialties, but I can’t see anything about the ring except that there’s a curse on it.” 

“Ryou, can you maybe stop with the evil ring magnet habits?” Malik laughed. 

“Hey. I’m somehow offended by that.” Bakura held his staff out, casting a mass heal spell that damaged a chunk of the undead surrounding them, but it wasn’t enough to stop the advance of corpses. 

“Stand back.” Ryou ran into the thick of the horde, breathing fire.

“Oh that’s OP as fuck!” Bakura shouted. 

“He’s level 21. Get good, Bakura.” Seto laughed as he ran his rapier through the eye socket of one of the animated corpses. 

“You get a unique racial skill at 20,” Ryou explained. “But you’re a hobbit, so you’ll probably have an epic hiding feat.” 

“Go ahead and laugh, bitch, but don’t come crawling to me when these fuckers eat you and you need someone with Cure Disease.” Bakura casted another mass area heal spell, dropping half a dozen zombies to the ground in one attack. 

“Finally, you’re useful for something.” Malik hovered in the air. He tossed potions to people as needed, but didn’t bother attacking unless Ryou’s shields were down. 

“Anyone hurt?” Bakura smeared the sweat off his forehead after the battle. 

“Please, you’re not playing with amateurs.” Seto sneared. 

“A simple __no__ , Seto, what the fuck.” 

“Yes, do keep to small words around Bakura.” Malik smirked. 

“I don’t even know why I’m playing with you assholes.” Bakura glared at both Malik and Seto as they continued into town. 

No NPCs lingered in the streets, and the lights were out in the pub. Ryou stopped, looking around. 

“I suppose we should explore the houses.” 

They tried, but all the doors and windows were boarded shut from the inside. Halfway through the town, they noticed lights in the mausoleum. The rank odor of damp mud surrounded them the moment they stepped near the tombstones. The bones of a blackjack tree rose up into the sky, twisted as if in agony. Ryou ran his fingers over the moss-coated headstones, smiling. Everyone else, however, was checking their spells and adjusting their equipment. 

Ryou marched forward, and a pack of undead dogs leapt out from behind a patch of trees. Ryou lashed at the first one with his tail, knocking it into a grave marker. The dog’s neck broke with a sharp __snap__ as it collided with the stone. Ryou’s shield shattered as half a dozen more dogs attacked. Bakura surrounded Ryou with a fresh barrier, and used a heal spell to damage the dogs. Seto’s rapier plunged into the dirty, matted fur of the dogs, but his attacks did little damage to them. Malik kicked one of the hounds in the side and shoved his sword tip through the creature’s skull. Ryou couldn’t use his fire attack without damaging the others in the maze of tombs, so Bakura’s heal spells were their best attack, but it was difficult to wipe out each cluster of enemies while still keeping their shields up. Screaming, Bakura jumped into the middle of the last wave, allowing their teeth to sink into his arms and legs as he used his strongest heal spell to wipe them all out and keep his HP from dropping to zero both at the same time. 

“Hey, take it easy.” Malik tilted a mana potion to Bakura’s lips as he crashed to his knees. Bakura wasn’t dead, but bite marks mangled his limbs and black trails crept across his skin form the infection spreading through him. “You wreck yourself every time we fight these assholes.”

“It’s the only time my attacks are worth a damn.” Bakura laughed, nullifying the diseased and poisoned status affecting dropping his states, and bringing his HP back to full health. 

“Seto...love, not that I’m complaining. This is great, but maybe...tone down the injuries when you market this game.” Ryou pressed his arm to his chest, blood oozing out of a bite mark. “This...really, __really__ hurts.” 

“That’s what ratings and liability waivers are for,” Seto said. 

“Seto, you’re supposed to be protecting him!” Bakura shouted as he grabbed Ryou’s arm and neutralized the spreading infection before curing him. 

“I __did.__ That’s why he’s still alive despite his abmismal max HP.” 

“I can’t play a game without expecting to get hit, Bakura. And it’s not like dying in the game will kill me in real life. Just cast Luonazun on me if I die.” 

“Fuck that. No one’s dying in this game.” Bakura clenched his jaw. 

“Mostly because it hurts to die— _ _a lot__ — _ _Seto__.” Malik snorted. 

“Fine, I’ll create an adjustment setting for pain when the game goes for sale; however, I’m warning you, for each percentage the player reduces their pain, they’re getting an equal reduction to bonuses.” 

“Oh no. Not our bonuses. We’ll just have to...add...more mods to the game or use console commands.” Bakura laughed.

“Fucking casuals,” Seto sneered. 

“You say it like an insult, but I’m rather proud that I’ve learned to __have fun__ during a game instead making everything about killing my opponent.” Malik rolled my eyes. 

“Everyone, please, let’s not debate after every random encounter.” Ryou continued toward the mausoleum. 

“Oh, is arguing with Malik not part of the game? Damn, I’ve been playing wrong this entire time.” Bakura grinned. 

A thin drizzle misted their skin. The rain painted dark spots on the mausoleum. Ryou and Bakura shoved their shoulders into the thick, heavy door to force it to swing open. 

“Have fun, assholes, I’ll keep guard out here.” Malik slumped against one of the marble columns. 

“Oh, sorry Malik, I didn’t think—”

“It’s fine.” Malik dismissed Ryou’s apology with a wave of his hand. “Bakura went alone last time. I only had to deal with a few stray zombies.” 

“Yeah, as usual, I got the worse end of the deal.” Bakura snorted, but he held Malik’s arm before saying, “Fly to the roof if too many gather.” 

“Don’t worry. I have no intention of fighting a zombie hoard by myself.” Malik grinned, sneaking a surprise kiss onto Bakura’s lips. “But thanks for the concern.”

“I don’t want to patch you up if you get hurt,” Bakura muttered. 

“Liar, you’d gain XP if you had to heal him. You simply don’t want him hurt.” Ryou poked Bakura with his tail before stepping inside. 

The main hall smelled of dust. Ryou lit a torch, lifting it high. A soft gasp caught in his throat. The moth-eaten rug leading deeper into the crypt was stained with maroon splotches. The splatters smeared past the rug to the floors and up the walls. Handprints dotted between stains, and partial footprints. 

“Some party, eh Ryou?” Bakura grinned. 

“Zombie buffet by the looks of it.” 

“Keep your eyes open. I don’t want to be swarmed in this narrow space,” Seto said. 

“If we lead them to the doorways, we can clear rooms without minimal effort. Let’s do a sweep of each room—left to right.” 

Bakura nodded. It was the same strategy that he always used in order to kill everything alone without Malik’s help. Bakura kicked open the first wooden door, blasting the area with a heal spell to knock down the creatures’ HP and draw them toward the entrance. Seto slashed the undead in the doorway while Bakura slung heal spells from behind him and kept Seto’s shields active. Ryou kicked in the next door, filling the room with fire.

After they cleared each room of the undead, Bakura snuck around and searched for loot or secrets. He only had three levels as thief he’d taken on in order to gain basic sneak and lockpicking skills, but his hobbit stats gave him a natural bonus to his sneak skills. 

They alternated down the hall, and then the final door into the main chamber stood before them. Ryou reached out, holding the latch a moment.

A scream made the three of them jump and spin around. A figure lunged down the hallway. Bakura recognized the silhouette of bird-wings even in the darkness. 

“Malik!” Bakura jumped into the air to fly—used to using magic in the real world—and face planted into the rug. 

“Run!” Malik screamed.

Bakura did run, toward Malik instead of away. He grabbed Malik, checking to see if he was hurt. 

“What the fuck happened?” 

Malik was poxed with bite marks, so Bakura cast Cure Disease and healed the bleeding before wrapping Malik in shields. 

“Later! Run!”

“Run? The boss battle is ahead,” Bakura said. 

“Go!” Malik insisted. “We’re fuckign swarmed! I mean FUCKING SWARMED with undead!” 

In the darkness of the hallway, an endless rush of shadows crowded into the crypt. Bakura’s mouth dropped. 

“Holy shit. How many?”

“A hundred? Two? I don’t know. Seto, what the fuck did you do? I’ve never __seen__ so many before.” 

“Who knows?” Seto asked with a smirk, letting them know that whatever was going on, was according to plan. “We’ll just have to keep playing and find out.” 

“Malik. Ether,” Bakura said. 

Malik pushed the bottle into Bakura’s hands and he drank it down as Ryou pulled the double doors open. They shut them behind them to block the hoard stuffing themselves into the hall. 

A sarcophagus sat in the center of the room. The lid scraped against its stone base, dropping to the floor and shattering. A skeleton rose up from his deathbed, golden crown tangled into matted, overgrown hair. The skeleton's eyes glowed a venomous green. With a two-handed sword, he swung—shattering all their shields in one blow. 

“Fuck!” Bakura screamed, casting new shields.

Ryou used his fire attack. Seto stabbed through the skeleton's ribs. Malik spun in a dance. His sword attacks did a fair amount of damage, but not nearly as much as Ryou’s fire. Bakura used his most powerful single-target heal spell. 

“Ether!” Bakura shouted.

Malik tossed him another bottle of green liquid. Bakura chugged it. The skeleton king swung again, shattering everyone’s barriers. 

“Son-of-a-bitch!” Bakura swore. “I can’t attack if I have to use all my turns on shields!” 

“Then let us fall! Focus on killing the enemy before you!” Seto cut at the skeleton’s joints in an attempt to disable him. 

“Fuck you!” Bakura snarled. “I’m keeping everyone alive!”

“You sound like Yugi.” Seto’s lips curled as he stepped back so Ryou could whip the skeleton with his tail. 

“I am going to shove this entire boss right up your un-lubed asshole!” Bakura screamed, blasting the skeleton with a quick heal spell before adding more shields to everyone. 

Malik used his whirlwind dance. His swords spun through the air, and his second stroke lopped the head off of the skeleton. A howl reverberated through the room. The bones collapsed in a heap and treasure scattered across the floor. 

“I never get tired of that part.” Bakura panted, wiping sweat from his brow. 

“How is everyone?”

“Great, thanks to your shields.” Ryou grinned. 

Bakura returned the expression. Playing with Malik was fun, but a proper party of four added to the excitement. He sorted through the loot, pocketing the gold, and scanning the rest for anything useful to equip. 

“What’s this?” Ryou bent into the sarcophagus. He pulled out a hand carved from stone. 

“Can I have it?” Bakura asked. 

“Ryou, don’t you dare hand it to him.” Malik scowled. “He only wants it so he can—”

“ _ _Hand__ it to you?” Bakura licked his smiling lips. 

“Next time I ask you to give me a hand, yes.” Malik shook his head. 

“Sorry, Bakura,” Ryou said. “ _ _Hand__ some as your puns are, I think this is part of a puzzle.” 

“Seto, you'd better watch your ass because I might steal your man if he keeps sweet-talking me with puns.” 

“Seto would win hands down against you in a contest for Ryou’s heart,” Malik said. 

“I gotta hand it to you, Malik. That wasn’t too shabby,” Bakura said. 

“You always did enjoy my hand-jobs.”

“I can’t __hand__ le all these jokes.” Bakura grinned so hard his nose crinkled. 

“Ah! Here!” Ryou called out in victory.

He pressed the hand to a statue in the corner...nothing happened.

“Yeah, sorry Ryou. It didn’t work for us, either. We sent in a bug report, but __somebody__ hasn’t fixed it yet.” Bakura side-eyed Seto. 

“That’s because there were no bugs to fix.” Seto crossed his arms over his chest. 

“There’s nothing else to do. We spent an hour trying to make something happen.” Bakura shook his head. 

“And by the sounds of the moans and banging on the door from the hoard that followed us in, I’d hazard a guess that we don’t have an hour to figure it out this time. We'd better search for an exit instead.” Malik glanced around, but the room was sealed. 

“Half a moment...hmm…” Ryou stared at the statue for a moment. He snapped his fingers and dug into his pocket, pulling out the gold ring. 

“It better not.” Bakura’s jaw dropped as Ryou slipped the ring onto the stone finger of the statue. 

It did. There was a click, and the sarcophagus slid to the side, revealing a winding staircase coiling further down into the earth. Seto marched up to Ryou, kissing his forehead. 

“I knew you’d figure it out.”

“What the fuck? How the hell was __anyone__ supposed to figure that out? There’s no way anyone but Ryou is getting that ring.” 

“Then no one else deserves this bonus level,” Seto sneered. 

Ryou’s eyes lit up. “Diablo homage?” 

“I thought we had more time to play. When I realized we’d only get one good arc out of this session, I put in a sub-quest I knew you’d love.” A half smile curled Seto’s lips. 

“I do.” Ryou grabbed the back of Seto’s head and kissed him. “I wish I could play this for 1,000 years.” He kissed Seto again. “With you.” He kissed Seto a third time. 

Reality crashed through the beautiful illusion of the game. Bakura had forgotten that beyond the world of the game, Ryou lay in bed, comatose and dying. He glared at the stairs sinking into shadows. 

“You didn’t even say ‘the sanctity of this place has been fouled’ and you called me and Malik the casuals?” 

 

“Nevermind that shit—if you think I’m going underground you’ve got another thing coming. I don’t care if—”

The wooden door behind them bowed, splinters falling to the floor as the fibers began to tear from the stress of the moaning hoard on the other side. Malik clenched his teeth. 

“ _ _Fuck__.” 

“Equip torches instead of swords,” Bakura said.

“That will drop my attack—”

“You have a specialty in potions. Douse the undead in oil and then use your dances to lite those fuckers up like a Yule log.” 

“I know fire isn’t your favorite,” Malik whispered.

“And darkness isn’t yours.” Bakura slipped his hand into Malik’s. “We’ll go through it together.”

“I don’t want either of you upset.” Ryou shook his head. “We can use a cheat code and—”

“Don’t be ridiculous. This is your birthday,” Seto interrupted. “We’re playing what you’d like, and you like underground, zombie infested mazes.” 

“Seto’s right,” Malik agreed before Ryou could scold Seto for his callousness. “It’s your birthday, and this is just a game, right?”

“Reality’s worse,” Bakura muttered. 

“By my calculations, we have approximately three minutes before those doors turn to kindling, so if we’re done holding hands and singing around the campfire, I suppose we hurry down those stairs,” Seto said. 

“Why are we even friends?” Malik stomped toward the staircase. 

“A question I often ask myself,” Seto said. 

“Come on you two, don’t fight in front of the kids.” Bakura pointed to the cracked and splitting door behind them about to explode into a pile of zombies. 

“About that.” Malik equipped two torches. “The dark suddenly doesn’t seem so bad.” 

Ryou shrieked, holding himself in pain. His knees slammed to the ground. All three of them shouted his name, bracing him to keep him upright. Agony twisted Ryou’s features. He held his breath as he doubled forward despite them holding him. Bakura glanced at the failing door, calculating how many he could take down with wide effect spells before he ran out of mana and needed to fall back for an ether. 

“I’m...okay.” Ryou gasped as if he’d broke the surface of a lake after almost drowning. “I’m okay now. S-sorry.” 

“Were you attacked somehow?” Seto asked with a frown. 

“No…” Ryou shook his head. 

“Like hell you’re okay.” Bakura searched through Ryou’s stats. “Your max HP dropped to 300.”

“Oh…makes sense,” Ryou said, too casually. “I suppose when it reaches zero—”

“It does __not__ make sense!” Seto slammed both fists against the floor. “You’re a character in a game! A preset character! I wrote your stats myself! Your HP shouldn’t be dropping like this regardless of your physical health!” 

“It’s __Monster World__. It’s the game I was playing when I died the first time… Atem rolled for my character so they could cast Luonazun on my corpse and revive me.” Ryou spread out his hands in a helpless gesture. “Strange as it is, it __does__ make sense that the spell fading is reflecting in my game stats.” 

Seto’s head swung toward the door as the first putrid hand managed to stick through the wood. “We don’t have time to debate this.” 

He scooped Ryou into his arms and rushed down the stairs. Having few options, Bakura and Malik followed. The moment they all sank below floor level, the sarcophagus slid back into place, burying them alive. 

“You okay?” Bakura stroked Malik’s wing feathers. 

“Great. Fucking great. Ryou, I hope this is scary enough for you because I’m freaking the fuck out.” Malik swore between clenched teeth. 

“I think it’s unironically fucking great.” Ryou forced a laugh before cupping his hand to Seto’s cheek. “You can set me down, love. I’m feeling better.” 

Seto hesitated, continuing down the stairs with Ryou in his arms; however, once he reached the bottom of the stairs, he lowered Ryou to his feet. 

“Thank you,” Ryou said. 

“Okay, so there’s no going back with all those zombies lurching around.” Bakura paced at the foot of the stairs.

“And we’re trapped,” Malik said. 

“Good point, so… I’m assuming going forward is our best chance of getting out of here alive.” 

“”Ha! It’s funny because I’m—”

“Ryou, don’t—” Seto slammed his eyes shut, fists shaking. “Don’t say it.” 

“I’m sorry. Oh, Seto. I’m sorry.” Ryou stroked Seto’s hair. “I won’t joke about it anymore.” 

Something grabbed Bakura’s ankle. He screamed, jumping to his left. Malik angled one of his torches toward the ground. A green, rotting hand crept closer, dragging itself by the strength of its fingers. 

“Gross,” Malik groaned. 

“Don’t worry, Bakura, I’ll protect you from the scary monster.” Ryou laughed and blew fire onto the hand. It flipped—palm up—curling it’s fingers like a dying spider. 

Bakura grunted, eyeing their surroundings and pretending he hadn’t screamed when he’d felt the cold, rotting fingers grab him. The room opened up into a maze of stone passages and rooms. The air was pitch dark except for Malik’s torches. Bakura cast his basic light spell, keeping it hovering next to Malik’s head. Malik gave him a weak smile. A howl echoed from the pitch beyond. Bakura stepped closer between Malik and Ryou, prepared to cast fresh shields if needed. Their party crept forward, a shadow swooped toward Malik’s head. Bakura swung his staff like a baseball staff, knocking the creature to the ground. He expected it to be a bat, but it was a sort of imp with bat-like wings and a barbed tail. 

“Clever. You knew my heal spells would do too much damage if everything was undead, so you switched out to devils,” Bakura spoke to Seto. 

“We can’t let you have all the fun.” Seto continued forward through the maze. 

A groan alerted them to the presence of another zombie. Bakura disintegrated it with white magic, but he heard something slithering behind them. Malik shrieked, hovering in the air as Ryou and Seto stomped on several enormous slugs. Before they could finish killing them all, more zombies appeared from the archway, and several demons ambushed them. In the chaos, Bakura focused on keeping everyone protected while slaying the undead. The other’s focused on the demons. 

After the battle, sweat dripped from the tips of his hair. Malik gave him a potion for mana and one for stamina, and he drank both greedily while the others looted the monsters. 

“I think there’s another secret passage here.” Ryou stared at the wall closest to him. 

“Why?” Malik asked. 

“I can feel an air current. Perhaps if I push…” Ryou pressed against the stones. A click echoed above them and a passage opened up into the floor leading deeper into the earth. He turned to Malik. “If this is too much—”

“No.” Malik grabbed Ryou’s clawed hands. “This is your birthday. We’ll keep playing. This is important to me, too and I don’t want to leave the game.”

“Here.” Bakura hacked into the code of their game, adding a few bonuses to his weapon. 

“What are you doing now?” Seto’s brow wrinkled. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not ruining the integrity of the game… just… there!” Bakura held up his staff, a halo of light surrounded them, much brighter than the touches. 

“You’re ruining the atmosphere,” Seto said. 

“Seto, shove your atmosphere up your ass. Let Malik have a little light.” 

“Bakura, have I ever told you I love you?” Malik grabbed the back of his head and kissed him. 

Bakura turned the kiss to a deep, sensual French kiss. He pulled back, lidding his eyes and parting his lips to tell Malik he was too beautiful to hide in the dark, but Ryou braced himself against the wall, panting and gritting his teeth. 

“Not...again…” 

“Ryou.” They all rushed toward him again. 

Ryou screamed, dropping into their arms as tears leaked down his cheeks. Frantic, Bakura checked his stat sheet again. 

“280.” Bakura swallowed. “At least it’s not in even increments, but it looks like you get weaker with each level.” 

“How is that a thing?” Seto hissed. 

“I don’t know, Seto. Let me grab my crystal ball and—”

“Bakura, please,” Ryou whimpered. 

“Okay. I’m sorry.” Bakura __tched__ , reminding himself that he’d have years to argue with Seto, but only a few more hours of gameplay with Ryou. He rushed down the stairs to avoid thinking about Ryou’s 280 max HP. 

A putrid green glow reflected off the silver threads of webbing woven across the floor like carpet. Ryou’s tail whipped about as he rambled about spider levels in other games. Bakura snorted in acknowledgment, but focused on the sounds echoing from the cave-like corridors. The scuttering noises grew closer as three dog-sized spiders leapt for them. 

Malik—wielding his swords again because of Bakura’s staff providing more light—spun through them like a tornado, hacking them to chunks. 

“Nice move.” Seto nodded. “But don’t relax yet. Those were the babies.” 

“Oh goody.” Malik huffed, but he was smiling despite the closed-in environment. 

Bakura wished their mental link worked in the game, not knowing how Malik really felt was more frightening than enormous spiders, but seeing this game through was important to all of them, and Bakura knew Malik wouldn’t back down.They slashed their way through several tunnels, finding themselves in an open chamber full of egg sacks. 

“Oh gods.” Malik winced, knowing what was coming. 

Spiders dropped down from the ceiling. Ryou used his major fire attack to burn most of them to a crisp while Seto and Malik picked off the few remaining. The fire lit up the cavern. Chaotic hatches of webbing filled the black void above them, and perched in the webs, were generations upon generations of massive black widows—the smallest ones were taller than Seto, and in the very center sat the queen, sleeker and arguably more frightening than anything Bakura had ever seen in the Shadow Realm. 

“Malik, whatever you do—don’t fly.” Bakura swallowed as he watched more spiders lower toward them. 

“No shit.” Malik starred above them with a wide open mouth. 

“Here comes the next wave,” Seto said. 

The slick, splattering sounds of their swords cutting through the giant arachnids reminded Bakura of the sounds overripe melons would make when he chucked them against old Pharaoh’s tomb walls. Bakura stayed between Ryou and Malik, protecting both of them with shields. One of the larger spiders pounced on Seto, sinking her fangs into his chest. 

“Seto!” Ryou lunged, ripping his claws through the spider and covering himself in green fluid. He grabbed Seto in his arms, digging through his bag for a health kit.

Another spider jumped for Ryou. Bakura flung himself over Ryou to guard him. The venom felt like acid slipping through Bakura’s entire body. Bakura’s vision blurred as he used an Anti-Venom spell. His sight cleared and Malik stood between the last of the spiders and the rest of them, dancing amongst them and slashing off legs with each sword stroke. Bakura loved him. 

Shaking his head, Bakura cured himself and Seto as the final wave of spiders descended to the cave floor. A horrible, rapid chattering sound stabbed into their heads. Bakura covered his ears, but couldn’t block the sound. A shadow covered them and the queen fell gracefully to the center of the room. 

Seto leapt up, piercing her abdomen with his sword. Her screech shook the rocks around them. The other spiders piled on top of them and it was madness. Someone screamed his name, but he couldn’t focus. Puncture wounds dotted his chest and legs. The world spun, but Bakura refused to drop. He screamed and screamed and blasted the area around him with healing magic to keep them alive while the others slashed their foes to chunks of bug-meat. Out of mana, he crashed to his knees, but a second later, golden light surrounded him and all his wounds vanished.

“Hell yeah, we’re level 20!” Malik cheered. “Oh god, Bakura check my hair for webbing.” 

Bakura laughed, relishing in the moment as he combed through Malik’s soft hair. “Yup, it’s crawling with tiny spiders.”

“Don’t joke about that!” Malik punched Bakura in the shoulder. 

“Stop messing around and help us find the next hatch.” Seto and Ryou crawled through the piles of silk-wrapped corpses and empty egg sacks. 

“Bite me, I’m checking my new stats,” Malik snapped. 

“I see something off with this one.” Ryou plunged his clawed hand into the chest cavity of one of the mummified bodies. After a click, another stairway opened up in the center of the cave floor, but instead of moving toward it, Ryou grit his teeth and curled into a ball. 

“Ryou.” Seto scooped Ryou into his arms. 

“I’m okay. That one was small. Look, I only lost 7HP. I’m okay.” 

Bakura exchanged a look with Malik showing he was still worried despite Ryou’s optimism, but neither of them said a word. They sank deeper into the earth, fighting gargoyle-like devils as they carved their way lower through the maze. Each time they pulled together and killed the level boss. Each time Ryou solved how to descend deeper into the earth, but each time he curled into a ball of pain and lost anywhere between 5-50 HP. Nevertheless, by the time Seto declared they were in the final level, Ryou had managed to hang onto 100 life points. They found themselves in a red-carpeted castle, but the antique artwork and elegant architecture couldn’t distract from the blood dripping down the walls or the body parts strewn across the floor. 

Bakura ignored the gore as they walked. He kept envisioning the code connected to Ryou’s character, staring at it like magic sigils in a book. He poured through each line of script, but nothing, __nothing__ was in there that could save Ryou. It was the same as with real magic when they were in the regular world. Ryou was simply fading. 

“Behind these doors is the final boss.” Seto touched the bleeding doors made from the twisted sinew and bone of countless victims. “Ryou, if you get hit even once—”

“Then we’ll make sure he doesn’t get hit.” Malik’s grip tightened on his swords. 

“Look.” Ryou tried distracting them. He jogged over to a dark corner, smiling and touching a painting. “I remember this. We were staring at this painting at the museum when you proposed to me.”

Ryou caressed the swirls of paint layering over the canvass. A chime rang and an entrance opened up, revealing marble baths and a lush, indoor garden. 

“I knew you’d remember.” Seto brushed his fingers up Ryou’s cheek. 

“Is this our save point?” Ryou grinned. 

Seto nodded. 

“Good idea. I think I could use a quick rest.” Ryou laced his fingers with Seto’s and lead him to one of the side rooms. 

“Oi, where are you going?” Bakura frowned. 

“We’re going to rest up before the big fight. See you guys in the morning.” Ryou blushed, giggling as they disappeared.

“We don’t have time!” Bakura screamed. 

“I think we do. Rest times aren't that long,” Ryou argued. “Besides…” His smile faulted. “I need to be along with Seto one last time…please…” 

They didn’t protest. Instead, Malik and Bakura found their own chamber in which to recover 

“Sex is great and all, but those baths are looking a lot more tempting right now. I like horror, but __urgh__.” Malik sat beside one of the marble pools. 

“Hope it heals MP. I’d rather not use the last of our ethers.” Bakura dropped his robe to the ground and slipped into the water. “Oh hell yeah, it restores everything. Get your ass in here, Malik. This is awesome.” 

Malik splashed into the marble tub, grooming his feathers as well as washing his body. 

“Oh hey, don’t we get a special perk since we reached level 20 earlier?” Bakura pulled up his own character screen. “I’ve been so focused on Ryou’s stats, that I forgot to check my own.” 

“You’re right.” Malik pulled up his sheet as well. “Birdtails get a god-level tornado attack. Nice.”

“Fitting for your temper.” Bakura laughed.

“What do hobbits get?” 

“Something called __Opportunist.”__

“Yeah, that sounds like you.” Malik splashed Bakura’s chest. “What does it do?” 

“Huh… lots of things… it lets me use other player’s or enemy’s actions to benefit my own.”

“Again, that sounds accurate. Maybe not as useful as a powerful attack, though.” 

“Yeah, remind me never to be a white sorcerer again.” Bakura laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back. 

“It’s easy to forget...isn’t it?” Malik whispered. “With Ryou walking around and fighting with us. I can almost forget anything was wrong if he HP wasn’t dropping after each level.” 

“Yeah.” Bakura stared at the ceiling. Wishing he __could__ forget. 

“I know, that’s why I’ve been crawling underground all night.” Malik sighed. “But I’m exhausted now.” 

“Come here.” Bakura pulled Malik closer. “Let’s rest here for a few more minutes and then find a bed so we can take a nap before the final boss battle.” 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the reviews I haven't gotten to yet. I will try to catch up this weekend! 
> 
> This is it! This is the climax. The other two chapters are resolution chapters. Fucking enjoy!
> 
> (and here's the poem I pulled the title of the fic from) 
> 
> "being to timelessness as it’s to time,  
> love did no more begin than love will end;  
> where nothing is to breathe to stroll to swim  
> love is the air the ocean and the land
> 
> (do lovers suffer? all divinities  
> proudly descending put on deathful flesh:  
> are lovers glad? only their smallest joy’s  
> a universe emerging from a wish)
> 
> love is the voice under all silences,  
> the hope which has no opposite in fear;  
> the strength so strong mere force is feebleness:  
> the truth more first than sun more last than star
> 
> – do lovers love? why then to heaven with hell.  
> Whatever sages say and fools, all’s well." 
> 
> e.e. cummings.

Gasping, Bakura jerked to sitting. He scanned his surroundings. A bed, a hawk wing draped across his lap, a sleeping adonis beside him, soft lighting encircling them. Despite Malik laying with him, Bakura’s chest ached with a hollow echo because he couldn't sense Malik through their connection. He felt the tickle of Malik’s feathers, felt the warmth of Malik’s body, but he couldn’t _sense him_. 

“Nightmare?” Malik yawned. 

“Yeah.” Bakura sighed, tension easing from his body at the sound of Malik’s voice.

“Want to talk about it?”

“It was nothing.” Bakura shook his head. “Idiot Pharaoh was looming over me with that ridiculous glowing Eye of Wadjet, and he kept warning me about _The Shadow Game_. Stupid, right?”

“That’s wild.” Malik yawned, waking as he listened to Bakura retell the dream. “But not really surprising since we’re in a game.” 

“I guess.” Bakura dropped to the mattress. Malik scooted closer and hooked his arm around Bakura as well as his wing. Bakura turned toward Malik, pressing their foreheads together and basking in Malik’s heat. 

“I miss our link,” Bakura said. 

“Hmm...strange, isn’t it? I was so infuriated at our connection the day you cut your arm, but now I’m a little lost without your echo.” Malik ghosted his lips over Bakura’s mouth. 

“Part of me doesn’t want this game to ever end—for the obvious reasons with Ryou—but another part of me is ready.” He brushed his fingers against Malik’s lips. “There are so many things I want to do with you in the real world. Maybe I’m selfish, but—”

“I understand, and I’m more than ready to see sunshine again. It’s been a long night. I wonder what time it is outside of the game?” Malik kissed his fingertips. 

Bakura shook his head, unsure himself. He closed his eyes and nestled against Malik. “I don’t think I’m getting anymore sleep tonight.” 

“HP is full, so we might as well search for ingredients I can use for potions.” 

“Sure. Why not?” Bakura yawned, stretched, and crawled out of bed. 

The garden surrounding the baths was full of herbs and wild ingredients. Bakura used his heightened search checks to find the most potent versions and by the time they were done, Malik’s bag was full. The doors behind them groaned as they opened. Bakura opened his mouth to tease Ryou and Seto for sleeping in, but he choked on his words when he saw Ryou slung over Seto’s shoulder. 

“What happened? He looks almost dead!” Bakura ran to them, trying to heal Ryou, but the spell fizzled into the air. 

“His HP dropped twice while we slept.” Seto’s jaw was tight enough to break, even as he forced words from between his lips. “His max HP is 1.”

“Fuck.” Malik clutched his bag in both hands, eyes screwed shut as if not seeing Ryou hunched over would somehow save him. 

“I’m sorry.” Ryou finally broke down. Tears rolled down his cheeks. He sniffed as he clung to Seto to stay standing. “I’m sorry. I’ve been having so much fun playing with everyone...it’s such a shame, that I won’t be able to finish the main quest, but I’d at least like to finish this last boss. I know 1 HP isn’t enough, but...please...don’t make me stay here. Let’s beat him together before I have to go.”

“Of course.” Seto bit his lip. His eyes gleaming like wet glass window panes during a lightning storm. 

Bakura couldn’t speak, but he armored them with every shield and defense spell in his inventory. Silently promising Ryou that—if nothing else—he’d see the boss fall before his last HP drop. 

“We’re ready. Here, drink this.” Malik handed them each several potions. 

Increase speed, dexterity, attack, and immunity to status effects for 5 rounds. Strength flooded through Bakura’s veins. The world slipped by in slow motion because of how quickly they sprinted toward the mangled-human door. They stepped into a church with stained glass windows. Two portals swirled in the background, and wails poured from both. The fountains near the entrance overflowed with blood which splashed at their feet. They tracked red footprints along the carpet. 

“Wasn’t expecting an angel.” Bakura stared at the creature in front of them. 

“We should probably stab it now and ask questions later.” Ryou forced a smile, but it only made him look more frail and tired. 

The angel glowed brilliant white. Vast white wings stretched from its back, and a flowing white robe brushed the floor as it stepped toward them, but as it walked, it began to change. The skin stretched and split, bleeding and staining the creature’s robes. The feathers fell away from the wings and showered to the ground. Skeletal appendages ripped from the flesh of the wings and stretched further outward. Horns spiraled from the angel’s scalp, bleeding at the base as they rose higher. 

“Okay, this was more of what I was expecting.” Bakura gave a single nod. 

“Let’s make this quick so Ryou can see the ending scene.” Seto sprinted forward and plunged his rapier into the angel’s heart. 

Bakura wished he could fight beside them as they pummelled the final demon, but his staff was a glorified night light for Malik and was useless for anything else. He could have cheated, given himself proficiency in the weapon of his choice, but he knew Ryou would be happier if they played fair, so he kept everyone’s shields up, and healed them, and only jumped in the way when he had to to prevent Ryou from KO’ing from even the lightest of hits. 

Malik was fierce. His attacks sent bone chips spinning away from the Fallen Angel’s wings. Seto roared as he fought, pouring all his grief into the battle. Ryou managed to land a critical and the Fallen Angel smiled as it collapsed to the floor, defeated. Treasure surrounded them. 

“We did it! Thank you! Thank you!” Ryou ran around, throwing his arms around each of them. 

No one touched the treasure, no one cared for it. They all grabbed Ryou instead. Embracing him. In his thoughts, Bakura _fucking demanded_ the gods and fate spare Ryou somehow, although he knew they wouldn’t.

“I’m terribly sorry, but...I don’t feel good.” Ryou’s face crumbled. 

Malik broke into tears. 

“Look.” Seto held Ryou’s face. “A hatch is going to open. And the light’s going to pour through. And—and I made it look exactly like our wedding day. Remember the dragon ice sculpture we ordered? And the cake you picked out? But this time...the cake...said…happy birthday…” Seto sniffed, trying to hold in the sobs as his words rushed out of him. “I did it because...you’re such a fucking sap and I knew you would like it.” 

“Seto...I love you.” Ryou pressed his hands over Seto’s. “I love you. I love you. I— _oh no_. Oh God no. Anything but...this...” Ryou gasped, clutching his chest. “Everyone...please— _run_.” 

“What?” Seto blinked the tears out of his eyes, something in Ryou’s tone sent icicles stabbing into all of their spines. 

“Something’s wrong…Something worse than dying…It’s like when I had the Ring? Leave me. Now. You have to run…Run Now!”

One knee crashed to the ground. Ryou covered his mouth as his body heaved. Black leaked between his fingers and dribbled down his chin. Thick. Black. It looked like tar. With another heave, Ryou bent forward and vomited black ichor over the gold and jewels around him. 

“Ryou!” Seto grabbed Ryou’s shoulders. 

Ryou pushed away, but couldn’t escape Seto’s grasp. He vomited again, turning his head to keep the black away from Seto’s body. Bakura and Malik stood, frozen in shock. Bakura’s own breathing stopped when he saw the light drain out of Ryou’s eyes. He looked like a doll. Not dead, an actual doll. A plastic Monster World figurine. The wings and tail disappeared, and it was human Ryou, but his colors were all wrong. They weren’t alive—they were paint. His body, already stiff as a board, fell over to its side in the same kneeling pose he’d been in, but on his side. 

“This…this can’t be happening.” Seto shook his head, splattered in thick black despite Ryou’s efforts to keep him clean. “This isn’t part of the...and why hasn’t the door opened yet? This can’t be a bug. What the fuck?” 

The cathedral went black. Malik shrieked. Bakura grabbed him, holding his staff up to Malik’s face to remind him they had their own light. 

“It’s okay. It’s okay. Malik, it’s okay. See?”

“It’s not okay!” Seto shrieked, sweat matting the hair to his face. “None of this should be happening! What the fuck happened to Ryou? Bakura? Did you do this?”

“No!” Bakura shouted. “Why the fuck would I? This is— _oh fuck_.” 

A shadow moved in the darkness. The ichor Ryou had vomited pooled together, darker than the pitch around them, and formed into a familiar shape with burning pits instead of eyes. 

“This can’t be happening.” Bakura shook his head, still clutching Malik but now for his own comfort. “How the fuck are you back!” 

**Have you forgotten? They pulled the little mage from me all those years ago. Do you think I didn’t know how to use _My Ring_ a keep a part of my soul within your little _host_? He was too strong for me to escape before, but we took care of that, didn’t we, my thief? **

“No!” Bakura screamed. 

“Bakura!” Seto shouted. 

Bakura ignored him. Still screaming, he grabbed one of Malik’s swords and charged, hacking at Zorc’s leg in blind desperation. 

“Give him back! Give him back! Bring Ryou back! Nobody wants you!” 

He heard more screams from the portals. Not the vague wailing of the NPC damned, but familiar voices. Yugi, Jonouchi, Honda, Anzu, Mai, Mokuba. They begged Ryou not to leave, to come back to them. Bakura wasn’t sure if it were a trick of the Shadows, or if the others were actually in the room praying for Ryou not to die. He didn’t care, either. He. Just. Needed. To. Kill. Zorc. 

**Fool!**

Zorc smacked Bakura and he crashed against the back wall. Every bone in his body shattered. The pain was so unbearable that his mind couldn’t process it all, but he was still conscious, and few HP lingered, so Bakura surrounded himself with healing light, mending his bones together until he could press up on his hands and knees. Zorc growled at the glow surrounding Bakura, and Bakura laughed. He laughed up to the heavens too far above them for his laughter to reach. 

“Maybe you robbed us of our last minute with Ryou, but you’re not going to have time to celebrate your resurrection.” Bakura slid the sword back to Malik’s feet, crawling to his staff and reclaiming it. Bakura surrounded them in new shields. 

**Are you so desperate to join your host that you’d challenge _me_?**

“You ain’t shit, Zorc!” Bakura roared. 

**Then let’s make this interesting… one last Shadow Game for old time’s sake.**

Zord spread out his wings and the darkness around them changed, writhed. The black air crawled against Bakura’s skin, licking him, _tasting him_ , and coveting more. Bakura imbued his staff with extra heka, pulling from his own life force to charge up the staff’s power. 

“I’m not the type to go on and on about destiny or any of that crap, but it sure is convenient that you’re back, and I’m here with a staff brimming to the hilt with light magic, so you better prep yourself, Zorc Necrophades, because I’m about to cram this right up your ass.” 

Bakura summoned Diabound; they attacked together. Zorc lashed out with his tail, but thanks to Bakura’s Opportunist skill, he was able to leap onto the moving appendage and use the momentum of Zorc’s attack to hurl himself closer. He plunged the glowing staff into the center of Zorc’s forehead. The creature roared, clawing at his face. Bakura rolled toward the ground in time to dodge Diabound’s follow up attack. 

“Bakura!” Malik screamed, summoning Rukh. 

Their ka merged, and this time Bakura didn’t struggle for control. He ran to Malik, wrapping his arms around Malik’s waist and pressing his forehead into Malik’s shoulder blades in order to keep their bond tight. 

“Let’s dance, Malik. You lead.” 

“Don’t worry, I got this!” Malik shouted. 

Their combined ka blasted Zorc with golden fire. Zorc lashed out with his tail and with his dragon appendage, but he couldn’t match their speed. Seto called Duos and the BEWD. The two ka polymerized just as Bakura’s and Malik’s had. The ka trapped Zorc in a pincer attack, blasting him with heka and tearing into his flesh with their teeth and claws. 

A neigh drew their attention to the altar at the front of the room. Ryou’s ka, Rishi, reared up, running and leaping toward Seto’s combination ka. He merged with the other two, creating a white, horned hydra with seven heads and a knight rider with gleaming opal armor. 

“Fucking OP sons-of-bitches,” Bakura muttered, but he was grinning. “Let’s kick this fucker’s ass together.” 

They all attacked. 

Their combined light cut through Zorc the way light always cuts through dark, all at once and utterly. Nothing remained. 

“Ryou!” Seto dashed forward, sliding to his knees and cradling Ryou’s body into his arms. 

The staff dropped from Bakura’s grip. Ryou no longer looked plastic. He was real. He was real. and he was Ryou, and— 

He was dead.

Ryou was dead.

Above them a hatch opened. Sunlight streamed into the cathedral, bringing out the true, bright crimson in the blood leaking from the fountains and from the first boss they killed. Bakura and Malik stumbled to Ryou’s side. They eased down, placing their hands on Ryou’s chest as Seto wept. 

“He helped us win,” Malik whispered. “Even in death, he protected us.” 

“Don’t go. Don’t go. Don’t go.” Seto sobbed, pressing Ryou’s still body to his chest. 

“Bakura, do something.” Malik clung to him, eyes wide and desperate.

“What?” Bakura shook his head. 

“I don’t know. Anything. Do _anything._ ” 

“ _What can I do, Malik?_ ”

Bakura dropped to his ass. There was nothing to do. He stared at Ryou’s lifeless body. He didn’t see it last time, the way his host’s body had looked when he died. The rope broke from the Ring and Bakura had fallen away, but Ryou told him what happened, after Pegasus’s island, and after he’d tricked Ryou into re-equipping the Ring. Ryou died, but they’d used the fragment of Ryou’s soul from the game piece to put back into Ryou’s body by casting Luona-

“I’m a white sorcerer!” Bakura leapt to his feet, tears streaming down his face. “Holy fuck! I’m a white sorcerer!” 

“But you can’t bring back the dead.” Seto buried his face into Ryou’s hair. 

“Yes I can!” Bakura held up his staff. “ _Luonazun!_ ” 

Light swirled around Ryou, absorbing into his body. With a gasp, Ryou arched his back, his eyes popping open. 

“Best. Birthday. Ever.” Ryou reached up to slip his arms behind Seto’s head so he could pull Seto down for a long, joyous kiss. 

His hair shined and his skin glowed. A few crows feet clung around his eyes, but the shadows were gone and Ryou’s cheeks were less hollow than before. 

“Bakura? How?” Malik gripped Bakura’s biceps. Tears still lit up his lavender eyes, but his was smiling. 

“The spell was running out, so I couldn’t save him, but no one said I couldn’t re-cast it after he was dead.” Bakura grinned. 

“Godsdammit you’re a genius, Bakura!” Malik picked Bakura up and spun him around. 

Bakura laughed. They all laughed. Light flooded into Bakura’s chest, and Malik’s lips were plush and warm against his. They only broke apart so they could grab Ryou in a group embrace. Not even Seto complained as everyone twined their arms around each other. 

“You really did save me, Bakura.” Ryou smiled. “I should have never doubted you.” 

“You should have. He’s an asshole,” Seto said, but looked right at Bakura. “Anything you want, you’ll get it. If you want the Cube—”

“Fuck the Cube.” Bakura laughed, smearing tears off his cheeks. Relief and joy and the release of months of built-up fear all washed down his face at once. “I’m not going to have time to track down the Pharaoh in Aaru. I have to stay here a little longer so we can finish the entire game together! Right Malik?” 

“After all the work we put into betaing? We'd fucking better play to the end!” 

“I love you guys so much.” Ryou threw his arms around them again, squeezing. 

“We love you, too,” Bakura whispered, still sobbing. 

“So, I know I died, and we need to let everyone know I’m okay, but… could we maybe play for a _little bit longer_? I’m having too much fun to quit just yet, and my character is level one again, so I’m going to have to power grind to catch up to the rest of you.” 

“Ryou Kaiba… you’re the fucking best.” Seto grabbed him and kissed him until they were both giggling in each other’s arms. “We’ll play all day long if you want to.” 

“Thirty fucking years and you haven’t changed a bit.” Bakura wiped at his face. “I need… I need a few minutes. You’ll have to play without me for a bit.” 

“Me too. That was a lot of dark corridors. Reality sounds fun at the moment.” Malik held his hands to his chest. “I can barely breathe. Ryou, I’m so happy you’re okay!”

“Thank you, Malik! Thank you! You helped Bakura level up with his current character, so you helped save me too.” 

“Hey, don’t give him any credit.” Bakura scoffed, but then he winked. “Well, I guess he can have 10%.”

“Generous.” Malik dried his face, smearing his kohl. 

“Go.” Seto shooed them away. “The next part will be more fun without you anyway.” 

“Hey Bakura.” Ryou leaned close and whispered into Bakura’s ears, “What’s the code for that mod you made? I wasn’t able to do everything I wanted during our break.”

“Hmmm… I wonder what if I remember?” 

“Please?”

“Fine. I’ll put a cheat sheet into your inventory.” Bakura pushed himself to his feet, offering his hand to Malik. “Come on. They’re going to do some _level grinding_.” 

Malik squeezed Bakura’s hand and they exited the game together. 

Bakura blinked. Usually the room appeared an instant after quitting, but they’d played so long that his brain was slow to register reality again. He shielded his eyes from the glaring light around him. 

“They’re waking up,” a voice said. 

“Does that mean Ryou’s gone?” the second voice was female. 

“No!” Yugi shouted as the room came back into focus. “Look! His heart monitor is still beeping. He’s not dead yet! Come on, Ryou! Fight this!” 

“Ryou will be fine, quit shouting. You’re all giving me a headache.” Bakura groaned and gripped his head. 

“What do you mean he’ll be fine? We saw him flat line for five entire minutes! We were sure we’d lost him!” 

Bakura recognized the first voice as Honda’s now. 

“Even if he does wake up.” Anzu looked away. “That’s a long time without oxygen to his brain. He could—”

“He’s fine! We saved him!” Bakura shouted. 

“Saved him?” Mai asked. “How the fuck do you save a dead person?” 

“Bakura did it!” Malik cheered, pushing himself to his feet. “Ryou should wake up soon.” 

“But how?” Jonouchi frowned, suspicious. 

“I used the same cheap ass trick you all did the first time—I cast Luonazun on him.” 

“But that only worked because it was a—”

“Shadow Game. Yes.” Bakrua interrupted Yugi. “Apparently a splinter of Zorc’s soul was lodged in Ryou all these years. Once Ryou was weak enough, he escaped and turned our game into a Shadow Game.” 

“No way!” Jonouchi shouted. “There’s no way Zorc was hiding in Ryou all this time. He was our friend!”

“He was good,” Yugi added. 

“Being good and being possessed by Zorc aren’t necessarily mutually exclusive. Ask him yourself when he wakes up.” Bakura glanced back at Ryou’s sleeping body, remembering the mod he’d given Ryou. “But first he needs to finish recovering. Let’s leave and give him some room.” 

“No way! We’re staying until he wakes up!” Honda insisted. 

“Mokuba,” Bakura hissed in a loud whisper. “Help me get these assholes out of here. Seto’s still with Ryou in the game. They’re fine.” 

Mokuba nodded. He didn’t seem surprised at anything Bakura had said, nor did he question Bakura’s orders. He took Mai by one hand and Anzu by the other and began to escort them out of the room. 

“We’re no good to Ryou half-starved. Let’s eat and then we can come back and check on him. The doctor will inform us if anything important happens,” Mokuba said. 

Everyone begrudgingly agreed before shuffling out of the room. Bakura used magic to kill the heart monitor before he left—no reason to scar everyone in half an hour when Ryou’s heart rate skyrocketed. Bakura snickered, flying past the others and racing them all to the dining room. 

“Hey, asshole! Wait for me!” Malik chased him through the air. 

Malik’s joy and relief hummed inside of Bakura. Sensing Malik once more felt like Bakura could breathe again. Noise buzzed through the room as everyone spoke at once while servants scurried around them with cups of coffee or tea. Bakura didn’t hear a single word; he was too preoccupied admiring the way the light played against Malik’s hair and jewelry. 

“Earth to Bakura!” Jonouchi shouted from across the table. 

“What? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“You’re not busy. You’re just sitting there staring at Malik.”

“Precisely.” Bakura smirked, eyes fixed on Malik.

The commotion drew Malik’s gaze toward Bakura. A soft wash of warmth flushed through Malik and he mirrored Bakura’s smirk. 

“Bakura, we really need to know what happened in your game with Ryou,” Yugi said. 

“The usual. Zombies, spiders, demons, ugly blobs dropping from the ceiling.”

“Ridiculously dark levels pissing me off,” Malik added. 

“A final boss changing forms, but then he’s not the _real_ final boss because _gasp_ an even scarier final boss was lurking in the shadows the entire time.” Bakura rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, why is that such a cliché anyway?” Malik asked. 

“Who cares about all that!” Honda shouted from his place beside Jonouchi. 

“What exactly happened to Ryou? Is Zorc the reason he flatlined? Why are he and Seto still playing the game? Are you sure he’s really all right?” Yugi’s gaze jumped back and forth between Malik and Bakura. 

“Ryou was never so much _dying_ as the spell was ending, and what do you do when a spell ends? You recast it. Damn, Yugi, you know how to play games. I don’t see why you all look so surprised.” 

“Nothing like this has happened since we were teenagers.” Anzu shook her head. 

“But why are they still in Kaiba's virtual world? We want to see him.” Yugi frowned. 

“Yugi, if Jounouchi died in your arms and then returned, wouldn't you need a few minutes?” Malik asked in a calm voice. 

“Specific comparison,” Jonouchi muttered under his breath.

Bakura sense Malik’s regret at his words. Anger flared in Bakura's gut.

“And people say I need to get over the past. Seems to me like a few of you need to practice what you preach.” 

“Oh look, breakfast is ready. Let's completely stop talking now.” Mokuba raised his eyebrows when he noticed the servants bringing in trays of food.

Bakura dug into his breakfast like a starving man. The others picked and nibbled at the food. Mokuba hadn't been serious when he's told them to eat in silence, but the group kept their heads down, musing on their own worries instead of chatting. Bakura should be satisfied that the years had sobered them all, but it made him uneasy.

“Could Isis not make it?” Malik asked Mai who'd been uncharacteristically quiet the entire time.

“She stayed with the kids,” Mai said. “But Rishid will be here tomorrow.” 

“It'll be good to see him,” Malik said.

“Here, eat this.” Bakura shoved an entire strawberry into Malik's mouth.

Malik's brow furrowed. He tried to protest, but his words were muffled. He retaliated by showing a spoonful of ful into Bakura's mouth. Bakura merely licked his lips and shoved a chunk of cantaloupe into Malik's mouth next. They burst into laughter, trying to out feed each other without choking while they laughed. Everyone started at them as if they'd lost their minds, but eventually it worked to break the tension. They all tried their own food, and soon the table was vibrating with chatter.

“So,” Bakura glanced over at Mai who sat to Malik's left. “I heard that you and Isis beat Yugi and Seto in a tournament. Let's hear the details.” 

“That was so long ago.” Mai laughed. “And I was a little drunk.” 

“We were all drunk. The air conditioner broke in our hotel room in the middle of summer, so they offered us free drinks,” Anzu said.

“That's probably why I dueled so well.” Mai laughed.

“And why Seto dueled so poorly,” Yugi added. “He wasn't even drunk. He was just pissed off about the air conditioning.” 

Mai told what she remembered from the tournament. The others filled in gaps here and there. They'd moved on to a different tournament when Ryou and Seto stepped into the dining room, both wearing fresh clothes.

“Hope you all saved some for me. I'm famished.” Ryou grinned.

“ _Ryou!_ ” 

He was instantly dog piled. Jonouchi and Honda each took a turn picking Ryou up and spinning him in the air. Mai burst into tears the moment she hugged him. She kissed his face and cursed him as she ran off to the bathroom to scrub the mascara from her cheeks. 

They asked Ryou a thousand questions, which he politely answered to the best of his ability. Bakura finally grabbed Ryou by the arm and dragged him to the table, loading a plate up with food he knew Ryou liked. Ryou's eyes lit up with delight at the sight of breakfast. 

“So what level are you now?” Bakura smirked.

“Look. I died—on my birthday, mind you—you can't harass me like this,” Ryou said which meant he was still level one and did no leveling up whatsoever.

“I can and will.” Bakura snorted, stealing a strip of bacon off of Ryou's plate. “I guess we can all start new characters. I'm sick of being a wet nurse.” 

“We should all play.” Ryou turned to the others. “This game is amazing, everyone. Seto really outdid himself! All we did was a side quest and I'm already in love.”

“You better be,” Seto teased.

Ryou smiled at him, grabbing his hand.

“Only you would still play Monster World after everything you've been through.” Anzu shook her head, but she had a soft look on her face.

“I don't regret anything. It's been years since we've all been together like this. This is the best birthday I’ve ever had!” 

“We thought we were going to have to organize your funeral.” Yugi frowned.

“But you're not, because Bakura saved me, and if a level 16 white wizard casting Luonazun bought me 30 years, imagine what a level 20 white sorcerer's version of the spell will do? I should be good for the rest of my life, so instead of a planning a funeral—let's celebrate my re-birth!” 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took so long to proof this, and the Epilogue for next week is almost 5k, imma bang my head against my keyboard next week trying to edit all that. Anyway, nothing grand happens this chapter. It's just some happy smut and tying up loose ends.

Despite his arm slung around Malik’s shoulders, Bakura still stumbled down the hall toward their bedroom. They gasped with laughter, stopping every few steps and leaning against the wall to chuckle in each other’s arms. They’d spent the day gaming and then threw a party as a day-late birthday celebration for Ryou, and what started as a few glasses of champagne for toasts had spun out of control and the hallway was spinning.

Bakura stared at the door they leaned against for a solid minute before realizing it was theirs. He fumbled with the knob and they swayed as they stumbled toward the bed, crashing on top of each other. Malik laughed harder. His face was bright and flushed with drinking and laughter. Bakura reached up and held Malik’s burning cheeks. 

“If I’d never seen you before tonight, I’d be falling in love with you right now.” 

“Bakura—” Malik moaned, his voice rich and husky. 

He grabbed the lapel of Bakura’s shirt and pressed their lips together. His tongue swirled into Bakura’s mouth. Bakura’s hand sank down to Malik’s chest. He groped at the muscles beneath Malik’s shirt. Finding a nipple, Bakura twisted it. Malik’s excitement echoed through Bakura. Malik bucked his hips against Bakura’s crotch, and Bakura whimpered as his cock strained against his jeans. 

Malik, knowing exactly how needy Bakura felt, bucked again. They clawed each other’s clothes away. They couldn’t even bother dropping the garments to the ground; rather, they rolled over the pile and pushed their bodies together. Bakura _needed_ the feel of his bare skin caressing Malik’s skin. The world still whirled from the alcohol, but Bakura was drunk off of Malik’s touch far more than from the booze. He moaned, sinking into the mattress, relaxed and utterly without restraint. Malik grazed his nails down Bakura’s chest, and Bakura arched, moaning for all he was worth. Spurred on by Bakura’s wails of pleasure, Malik lowered and bit Bakura’s neck. 

“Malik!” Bakura flung his arms around Malik’s neck. 

Malik trailed bites across Bakura’s collarbone and down the curve of his chest. He sucked the stiff buds of Bakura’s nipples, rolling his tongue around them afterward. Bakura hitched, grinding their cocks together. 

“Come on. Hurry up. I want you now.” Bakura grinned as he rutted against Malik’s cock. 

Malik growled low in his throat. His love bites meandered to the other side of Bakura’s chest and back up. Bakura tugged at Malik’s hair, crying out. 

“Lube.” Malik ordered. 

Bakura reached out and the bottle flew from Malik’s dresser to Bakura’s hand. The cap unscrewed on its own and a stream of clear gel floated between them, splashing onto Malik’s cock and around Bakura’s asshole as their hands and mouths stayed busy with each other. 

“Toy?” Bakura muttered, brushing Malik’s hair out of his face. 

“Plug. The blue one.” 

Bakura summoned the dark blue plug Malik had in mind. It slipped up Bakura’s ass and stretched him out. Meanwhile, Malik sucked on his nipples and dug his nails into Bakura’s hips. 

“Want me to do you at the same time?” Bakura gasped as the toy stretched his rim. 

“Gods yes.” Malik clambered on top of Bakura, French-kissing him. 

The lube coated Malik’s asshole as well. Bakura flicked his hand in a _come here_ gesture and their original vibrating wand appeared. After fitting the toy with a condom and lubbing it up, Bakura eased the first ball into Malik, teasing it in and out as the wide plug continued to thrust into Bakura. 

“More,” Malik demanded against Bakura’s lips.

Bakura added the second ball and then the third. Malik tossed back his head, frotting their cocks together as Bakura fucked him with the beaded wand. Once the final bulb was inserted, Bakura turned to toy on. Bakura held his breath for a moment as he adjusted to the phantom vibrations tickling in his ass. 

Malik physically pulled the plug out of Bakura’s asshole so he could replace it with his cock. Heat filled Bakura. Their grip on each other tightened as Malik moved in and out. They panted, soft groans echoing in the room. Malik started when the first firework illusion exploded above their heads. Several more exploded—burst of color showered into their hair and on their skin, glittering before eventually fading. 

“You dork!” Malik laughed. “They’re gorgeous.” 

“S’how it feels.” Bakura grinned, setting off a huge, lavender firework just over Malik’s head. 

“I love you.” Malik plunged deeper. 

“Oh yes! Yes! Love! Fuck! Right fucking there! Malik don’t stop!” Bakura shouted, trying to repeat Malik’s _I love you_ , but getting lost in the waves of bliss crashing through his nerves. 

He increased the vibration speed of the wand. Malik squealed, thrusting faster. Bakura added a fresh dose of lube to both of them. His lube-wet cock slid against Malik’s belly. The feeling of Malik’s skin, being stuffed full of Malik, the vibrations from the toy, Malik’s pleasure, and the comfort of having Malik stacked on top of him all swelled into Bakura. It felt good. It felt good. It felt gods-damned good, and Bakura and Malik dug their nails into each other’s shoulders as they came together. 

They rode out the last moment of ecstasy, and after the final thrill settled deep into their chests, Malik eased on top of Bakura and they held each other as the toys cleaned, dried, and stored themselves. 

“I love you too,” Bakura finished the sentence he couldn’t manage before. 

Malik combed his fingers through Bakura’s hair. Bakura sighed, hugged Malik tighter to him. He tucked the blanket around their bodies and drifted to sleep. 

***

He didn’t wake until the next morning when Malik drowned his face in kisses. Bakura blinked his eyes open. Sunlight splashed over his skin and birdsong drifted into the room despite the double-paned window. 

“Morning, lover.” Malik winked. 

“Morning,” Bakura whispered in return, twirling a strand of Malik’s gold-fleece hair around his finger. 

“Hung over?” Malik asked. 

“No.” Bakura shook his head. “I feel incredible.”

“Want to get breakfast with me?” 

“Yeah. Let me rinse off and I’ll go.” 

Bakura slipped into the shower and did a quick scrub before drying and wrapping himself in his bathrobe. They walked hand-in-hand to the dining room. Inside, they saw Mokuba, Mai, Anzu, and Honda with bags under their eyes and coffee mugs in their hands. 

“What the fuck is up, everyone?” Bakura shouted, drumming on top of the table before dropping in his seat. 

“Shhh, be quiet. None of your shit.” Mai grabbed her head. 

Bakura clicked his tongue. “Looks like a few of you are hungover.” 

“Not as young as we used to be.” Mokuba gave Bakura a queasy smile. 

“How about now?” Bakura double snapped his fingers. 

Everyone at the table blinked and stared at Bakura, who’s lips peeled back in a satisfied grin. 

“To be honest—it’s fun to show off.” Bakura shrugged. “I swear I’m not being nice.” 

“How the hell did you—”

The door opened, interrupting Honda. Ryou and Seto walked into the dining room, fully dressed. 

“Good morning!” Ryou cheered. “I hope you’re all well this morning.” 

“Yeah, thanks to Bakura, we’re pretty good.” Mokuba laughed. “I was feeling a little green around the gills a few minutes ago.” 

“Bakura!” Ryou flung his arms around Bakura.

“Don’t make a big deal over such a little parlor trick.” Bakura snorted. 

“I’m still gushing about how you brought me back to life.”

“Don’t make a big deal of _that_ either.” 

“Of course not.” Ryou smiled, messing up Bakura’s hair. “Anyway, I hope you all are hungry, because I took the liberty of requesting a special breakfast. I’m starving.” 

“You need to gain back all the weight you lost,” Seto said. 

“Yup! I feel a thousand times better than yesterday, but I’m still far too skinny.” Ryou patted his too thin belly. 

The servants arrived, refilling their coffee cups and heaping food onto the table. Waffles, fruit, cottage cheese, eggs benedict, quiche, bacon, sausage, _and_ ham—and Ryou ate a little of everything. 

“So…” Bakura said as he took his third slice of ham from the platter. “About the Cube.”

The chatter died and everyone dropped their forks. They stared at Bakura with wide eyes. He continued digging into his ham as if he didn’t notice. 

“It’s mine now, right?” 

“We had a deal,” Seto said. 

“Seto, how _could you_ ,” Anzu gasped.

“Easily,” Seto answered. 

“But with the Cube, Bakura could—”

“It’s fine.” Malik interrupted Honda. 

“How can you say it’s fine?” Honda dropped his napkin onto his plate so he could gesture at Bakura. “Not to discredit everything he’s done recently, but it’s still Bakura.” 

“I trust him.” Malik ate his vegetable quiche, not bothering to so much as glance at Honda. 

“It literally can’t do anything that I can’t do for myself.” Bakura snorted. 

“Then why do you want it?” Anzu asked, her tone was careful and straining to be neutral. 

“Because. It’s. Fucking. Mine.” Bakura toasted with a glass of orange juice before downing it in a single gulp. 

“Seto, are you sure? Remember all that trouble it caused?” Mokuba asked. 

“I made a deal,” Seto said, sipping on coffee. 

“Okay, I’ll help you unlock it.” Mokuba shook his head. “When do we depart?” 

“Tomorrow, once all of our guests have left.” 

“I hope you’re making the right decision,” Anzu muttered as she picked at her fruit. 

“Oh please.” Bakura rolled his eyes. “Don’t you realize I could go to the Duat any time I wanted? I told you already, I don’t need the Cube to punch the Pharaoh in his prick-face.” 

“Then why do you want it?” Ryou asked. 

Unlike Anzu, Ryou’s expression was full of genuine curiosity. Bakura frowned. He didn’t want to talk about it, about what he planned to do—though it was far less insidious than any of them were imagining. Malik’s fingers laced with his own. Bakura turned and Malik nodded, encouraging Bakura to speak. 

“I don’t trust it,” Bakura said. 

“That’s the smartest thing you’ve ever said.” Mai snorted. 

“Jokes aside, I was there the day those damn Items were forged and cast into the Millenium Tablet. The Cube _was not_ part of the original set. Which means _someone_ deciphered another spell from the Millenium Tome and created it—and call it a hunch—but I’m guessing a Cube with reality-warping powers wasn’t made out of aluminum foil and match sticks. I need to see it and be sure for myself.” 

The others exchanged glances at each other, and then re-focused on Bakura. They nodded. Ryou jumped up to his feet. 

“I know you all have to go back home, but why don’t we bring the rest of this enormous breakfast to the Game Shop so Yugi and his family can eat with us before you all leave?” 

***

Bakura leaned against the wall of the elevator shooting them above the Earth’s atmosphere. Across from him stood Malik and Rishid—the latter of them arriving the day after Ryou revived. Since he’d already gotten time off from work, Rishid decided to stay in Domino and return to Egypt with Malik once Bakura was ready to go. Seto propped himself against the right-most wall. Ryou and Mokuba stood on each side of him. 

“Seto, show them the view,” Ryou said. 

“Computer, reduce wall opaqueness by 90%,” Seto spoke in a soft voice. The color bled out of the wall panels, leaving them translucent. 

Bakura swallowed a gasp when he caught sight of the darkness and stars through the elevator window glass. The lights glittered. Sunlight flashed against a solar panel sticking out of a satellite. 

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Ryou gestured with the tip of his chin. “I never tire of the stars.” 

“Wow.” Malik cupped his hands around the glass, pressing his face between his palms so he could watch without glare from the window. 

Rishid nodded to acknowledge the sight but didn’t speak. Bakura remembered enough from Ryou’s old text books to know that stars were spheres of burning gases and their light was millions of years old in some cases, but nevertheless, it was easy to imagine each one as a portal to the Duat as they stood in the crowded elevator, shooting ever higher. Waves of excitement flowed from Malik to Bakura. He glanced over at Malik pressed against the window and grinned. 

“We’re here,” Seto said. 

They swayed as the elevator slowed. With a slight jolt, the room stopped and the doors opened. Bakura whistled. 

“Straight outta a sci-fi movie.” 

“This is old technology.” Seto shook his head, walking forward and expecting the rest of them to follow. 

They stopped at another set of doors. The AI scanned both Seto and Mokuba, confirming their identities through each series of entryways with fingerprints, rental scans, and voice matches. They even pricked their fingers so the computer could collect a drop of blood for a DNA sample. 

“What was the point of having a voice scan if you’re going to do a DNA test?” Bakura pointed to the flashing screens analysing their blood. 

“Standard security,” Seto said. “Blood can be stolen with a common syringe.” 

“What happens if something doesn’t match up?” Malik asked.

“You don’t want to know.” Mokuba snorted laughter. 

They finally walked into a circular room with ambient light fixtures lining the floor. In the center stood a column of clear glass, and floating in the middle of the column was a cube with a flattened corner. Bakura walked up to it.

“Bakura, you can’t—” Mokuba stretched out a hand, warning Bakura of the security features.

Bakura wasn’t concerned. He was a thief with unimaginable magical ability. He reached through the glass, clasping the Cube and pulling it to him, the useless security measures be damned. Seto snorted, annoyed at the ease by which Bakura was able to snatched his prize without setting any alarms. The box glowed in Bakura’s fingers. Familiar. Far too familiar. There was only one way to create any sort of Item—intense and prolonged human suffering. Bakura frowned at it, but otherwise didn’t react.

Malik, however, dropped to his knees, gripped the cloth over his chest, and sobbed. His tears dripped down his cheeks and splashed on the floor. He hated the sight, but Bakura held onto the Cube, scanning exactly how it was made...and how it could possibly be unmade. 

“Malik?” Rishid knelt beside him, holding his arm to comfort him. 

“Sorry Malik,” Bakura muttered. 

“Bakura? Why is Malik crying?” Ryou asked, his mouth ajar. “Is the Cube that evil?” 

“Good, evil, inanimate objects can’t make choices, but someone chose to create this.” Bakura shook his head. “I can feel the souls woven into the etching.” 

“Fucking Shadi,” Malik hissed, sucking in a breath and scrubbing tears from his eyes. 

“Probably. I should have ransacked that damn place after I murdered him to see what else he was hiding.”

“Absolutely not.” Ryou shook his head. “You were bad enough without _this_ corrupting you on top of Zorc and the Ring.” 

“Maybe.” Bakura held the cube a little higher. “I think I can un-do this.”

“Undo? Bakura, do you mean destroy it?” Mokuba asked. 

“Yes,” Bakura said. “I’m going to destroy it and release the souls bound to it. Malik?” 

Malik gazed at Bakura. Bakura knelt beside him, wiping the last tears off of Malik’s cheeks. “It’s going to hurt. A lot.”

“Do it,” Malik said, his voice clogged from his tears. “Nobody deserves to be _trapped_. A tomb, a Cube, a Ring. None of it is _right_. Let them go.” 

Bakura gave Malik a single nod, holding the Cube between them. The Cube glowed more brightly. It burned Bakura’s hand. Threads of smoke rose from Bakura’s palm as the Cube’s glow grew brassy, the color of molten slag. Malik clung to his wrist, his own hand smoking. He ground his teeth, growling at the pain, but he didn’t cry out or shed anymore tears. 

“Bakura, stop,” Ryou pleaded. “You’re hurting yourself.”

“Almost… I almost have—”

“Enough.” Rishid reached out to snatch the Cube from Bakura’s hand, but Malik shouldered him out of the way. 

“Rishid, no. Let him do it.” Malik held the back of his shaking hand to his chest, panting at the pain, growling _fuck_ between his clenched teeth. 

“But Malik—”

“Brother, please.”

The ever-stoic expression of Rishid’s face cracked. Malik used his spare hand to clutch Rishid’s. He squeezed it. The veins in his wrist bulged from the strength of his grip. It was much like the way the veins around his internal darkness’s forehead used to swell at the temples. Rishid held Malik’s hand with both of his own, staying with Malik instead of going after the Cube. 

The pain was fire singing Bakura’s nerves, melting him like his family had once been melted. Bakura growled through the pain. Spittle flew from his lips and his body recoiled away from the object in his hand, but Bakura slammed his other hand down on the Cube, keeping himself steady enough as he continued to unweave the Shadow Magic from the souls captured in the artifact. 

He told himself a little longer, a little longer, a little longer. He held on as if holding on could have somehow saved his own family. 

_No more_.

 _No more. No more. No more._

No more orphaned children. 

No more Dark relics. 

No more Shadow Games. 

No more. 

It was time to finish everything. 

He’d set down his sword, given up his vengeance, and now he had to make sure that history wouldn’t repeat itself in another three thousand years. 

Beams burst from the engravings, blinding all of them. The Cube rose from Bakura’s grip, the pieces separating almost as if the thing had been a puzzle all along. The sections dimmed, their color growing dull, then corroded. Each fragment disintegrated into the air. 

“What a waste of untapped potential,” Seto said. 

“How are your hands?” Ryou held Bakura’s wrists. 

“Nothing… I can’t… fix… once I catch… my breath.” Bakura’s eyes slammed shut, his body trembling in pain. 

“I understand you’ve given up your vengeance, but why go out of your way to destroy The Cube?” Mokuba asked him. 

“Coz fuck it.” Bakura snorted, trying to laugh, but he hurt too badly. “Garbage like that doesn’t need to be lying around where any asshole can fuck with it.” 

“It was safe here,” Seto insisted.

“For how long? We’ll all be dead before another century is over.” Bakura shook his head. 

He knew a single human life was nothing compared to the fate of the Items. The only way to guarantee no one suffered because of it in the future—was to free the souls and snuff the object out of existence. 

“I’m glad you got rid of it.” Ryou squeezed his shoulder. “You did the right thing.”

“Wasn’t trying to do the right thing, I just…” Bakura shook his head. “Maybe a little. Who knows who the people were linked to the Cube.” 

“Having trouble admitting you did something good?” Malik grinned through the agony shooting up their arms. “At least it’s truly over now.”

“Yeah,” Bakura confessed. “And after all these years… I’m ready for this all to be over, and that means no more loose ends like Millennium Items floating around.” He pressed his injured palms up to Malik’s. “Thanks, for sticking through it with me.” 

“Of course.” Malik smirked to hide the throbbing in their hands. “I’m glad you did it.” 

Light traced around the shape of their connected palms, gentle and shimmering. Rishid gave them space, and Bakura rewrote the skin and healed the burnt nerves and tissue beneath. Long after they were restored, Bakura sat there, brushing the pad of his thumbs across Malik’s skin… and smiling. 

For the first time, he thought of what he might want to do with his future without the unbearable weight of vengeance dragging him back into the depths of the past, and Malik was there—right there in front of him—and they could move forward together. 


	21. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you thought we were done with feels....you were wrong. 
> 
> Also, wow, I can't believe this is over :o

Bakura rubbed grit out of his eyes as Rishid drove them through the desert. Malik rolled the canvas top down from the Jeep and the wind scattered Bakura’s hair around his face as they sped along a freshly paved road. In the distance, he saw a curve of black slicing up past the horizon. 

“It’s huge,” he muttered as the wall grew taller the closer they drove. 

“Had to be taller than the pyramids, right?” Malik glanced at Bakura with a little smirk curling on his lips. 

A few miles later, Bakura finally caught sight of the re-built Kul Elna. His throat dried, and he couldn’t swallow. It was as if the years had tumbled on top of each other, leaving memories of each era as new generations built on top of the previous ones. Some of the original ruins clustered around the edges of the village—bones bleached white by millennia spent beneath the sun. Black scorch marks stained the white, crumbling structures. Bakura remembered how the flames danced around the village—each wall a projector screen of the horror around them. 

Bakura’s eyes skirted to the next section. Older buildings, but new in comparison. They stood two stories high and were made of bricks, stucco, and terra cotta. A few were painted powder blue or merigold, but even those were weathered and dusty. The houses nestled into the slopes of the hills, obstinate in their existence despite being too new to be part of the original village and too worn down to be part of the developing city. The newest buildings all clustered in the center, but some additions were already carving themselves into the mountains surrounding the back end of the original village. Buildings only a few decades old were made of colored glass that doubled as solar panels. They towered over the other structures as if to defy their humble beginnings. 

Bakura stared, not sure how to feel. Part of him hated to see everything different; part of him wanted to laugh because not even a Pharaoh’s reign lasted forever and the new city rising from the ashes of the old village was proof of that. 

“Would you like to stop?” Rishid glanced into the rearview mirror as they approached the threshold of the original ruins. 

A lump in Bakura’s throat kept him from speaking. He nodded. Rishid slowed down the jeep and nudged it off of the road, rolling over dirt and rock toward the teeth-like chunks of stone and wall sticking from the sand. Bakura pushed the clasp of his seatbelt, freeing himself and stumbling to the nearest jut of stone. Bakura placed his hand on top of the half-remaining wall. He ran his fingers along the edge, noting the texture of the crumbling stone and the way grit coated his fingers. The ruins were like him, old, and lime-stone pale, and brittle, but still standing after thousands of years. His hand dropped and he walked deeper into the ruins, until he stopped in front of a specific square of rocks. Bakura stepped into the center of what was once a room. His gaze mapped out what was left, comparing it to old, fuzzy memories. Only a few stones remained of the hearth where his mother once baked bread, but everything else was gone. The shards of broken beer jars, the stray sennett pieces, rags Bakura once used as a blanket, all of that had been swept up by archeologists long ago—dusted off, sealed into plastic bags, labeled, and stored in a cabinet in a university somewhere or, at best, displayed in a case in a museum, probably near the case where they kept the now-useless Millenium Items.

“Was this home?” Malik stood beside him, rubbing circles into Bakura’s shoulder blades. His empathy was clear even without their magical link. 

Bakura nodded again, slowly finding his voice. He pointed to empty corners of the room. “I slept here, My parents there. Hearth was there. We had a few chests with games and important things along that wall. The pantry. Another chest with work tools.” Bakura shook his head. “It’s so small. Out hotel room is bigger than this entire house, but it was more than enough for us…”

Bakura shook his head. The village had been his world. His entire world. And when the soldiers destroyed it Bakura found himself a speck of dust in a larger, crueler universe. He’d scavenged for scraps to survive. His first attempts of thieving mere handfuls of dry lentils or chickpeas stolen from overflowing sacks near market stalls. By the time he was King of Thieves, he was obsessed with hoarding piles of treasure and chests full of food because one never knew when there wouldn’t be enough again, like those first days after the fire. You could always be hungry again, so it was better to take all you could when you could. 

“We can go.” Bakura turned to face Malik. 

“We can stay,” Malik said.

“I’m ready.” Bakura knotted his fingers with Malik’s, leaning on his shoulder as Malik escorted him away from the ruins and back to the Jeep. Rishid stood waiting for them. He slipped behind the driver’s seat when he saw them approaching. Malik climbed into the back seat with Bakura, and they headed into the town proper. 

“There’s the museum.” Malik pointed as they drove past. “Those are some tourists shops, the real market is closer to what everyone calls Old Town—although to you, it’s more like Less New Town. That’s the orphanage Sara runs. You see the new business district rampaging out of control, and there’s the KC sector.”

“Bastard has his own sector? Sounds appropriate.” 

“You know Seto. Mr. Moderation In No Things,” Malik said. 

“And here’s the gate to the memorial.” Rishid gestured, slowing and showing the security guard a badge. 

“Why the gate?” Bakura asked. 

“To keep it safe. Tourists have a way of trashing everything they touch.” Malik crossed his arms over his chest. “All tours are guided, and no unauthorized entries after dark. The souls corrupted here have been through enough. We are going to make damn sure their names are protected so they can stay at peace.” 

Bakura squeezed Malik’s leg above his knee. Malik exhaled and smiled at Bakura, trying to brush Bakura’s hair away from his face despite the wind undoing the attempt. Rishid parked the Jeep close to the base of the wall. Bakura craned his neck to the smooth black surface climbing into the sky. Malik pulled his phone out of his pocket and brought up a screen. 

“The top is engraved and overlaid with power cells that help fuel the city. The center tells the history of the village—from Kul Elna’s origins of being founded by tomb builders, to their fall into thievery, and then the creation of the Millenium Items. The tomb keepers had some of the information locked away in vaults. Other details were discovered by going through the records of the town itself. Yugi’s team discovered a chest of records buried underground. Mostly legers of payments and plans for several of the tombs built by your people. This center section, what we’re about to look at, are the names we were able to recover. Some of it is guess-work, Bakura, so if you remember anything we’ve missed…”

Malik’s words died when he noticed Bakura wasn’t paying attention. He stumbled to the wall, catching the symbols carved into the dark surface. He recognized his name first, and above it his mother’s, and above that his father’s. Some of the symbols on the wall he only knew after he’d begun studying magic to cure Ryou, but _those_ three names… those three names his father had taught him by drawing them into the sand when Bakura was three years old. 

He reached out, brushing his fingers against his mother’s name. As his fingers touched the letters, they lit up, glowing with magic. Bakura jerked away. 

“Are you okay?” Malik asked. 

“I… didn’t do that.” He stared at the shimmering letters. Both his parents names lit up.

Bakura fell to his knees, smiling up at the glittering names of his parents. 

“I’m sorry…” he whispered. “I’m sorry.” He shook his head; his smile faded. “For everything…” His voice cracked and the tears dripped over his cheeks, hot as melted gold. “I—wanted—I wanted to make it right, but there was no fixing it, and the harder I tried the angrier I got, and then the Ring, and… I fucked up.” His expression crashed to misery, and wracking sobs choked Bakura. He pressed his forehead against the monument, wetting it with his tears. “I fucked up so badly. Please, forgive me…” 

The wind picked up, whipping Bakura’s hair to the side. Bakura gasped as a warm, gentle embrace surrounded him. His head jerked toward Malik, but Malik stood three paces behind Bakura and looked as shocked at the sensation as Bakura. Familiar scents rushed his senses. Beer, bread, the way his parents smelled each night when they hugged him good night. Exhaling deeply, Bakura turned back to the shining names. A sad smile decorated his face. 

“I miss you. I miss you both. It hurts so much…” Bakura sniffed. “My chest feels crushed, and I don’t think it’ll stop until I see you again.” Bakura leaned into the invisible embrace around him. “But it’s all right,” Bakura said, admitting it to himself more than the spirits of his parents he knew surrounded him. “Don’t worry about me. I’m all right, so you can rest. I’ll see you when I’m done here, but for now…” 

Bakura glanced at Malik a second time. Malik stood and wiped the tears from his cheeks, sniffing. 

“We have to go,” Bakura whispered as he stood to his feet. “I…” Bakura’s voice caught again. He cleared his throat, cheeks wet from his tears. “I love you. I love you both. I love the whole village. From now on I’m going to stop being a selfish asshole, and honor your memory a little better, all right?” Bakura rested his palm against the warm glow of his parents names. “I swear it.” 

A kiss lighted on the crown of his head, and then the light flickered out of the stone. Bakura stepped back, falling into Malik’s embrace as if he couldn’t stand without someone holding him.

“You okay?” Malik whispered the question into Bakura’s hair.

Bakura nodded. After he caught his breath, his said it out loud. “I’m okay.” 

***

“After today, I think you deserve a beer.” Rishid handed Bakura a bottle out of the hotel fridge. 

“Yeah? Think dinner with Fortune Cookie and Sarcastic Cleavage will go better if I’m buzzed?” Bakura raised an eyebrow, but he accepted the drink. 

“You’re right. Perhaps we should try sleeping pills.” 

“Now you’re talking.” Bakura snickered, sipping on his beer. 

Malik stepped out of the bathroom, straightening his tie. “Why aren’t either of you dressed? We have to meet them in ten minutes!”

“We are dressed.” Bakura stared at his pants and then at Malik. 

“You can’t wear that to meet my sister.” 

“Malik, it’s a family dinner, not a business meeting,” Rishid said. “Beside, a jacket won’t dress up Bakura’s personality.” 

“He speaks the truth!” Bakura toasted with his beer bottle before drinking another gulp. 

“Bakura, go brush your teeth so your breath doesn’t smell like booze.” Malik stole the bottle from Bakura’s hand and finished it off for him. 

“Whatever.” Bakura rolled his eyes as he stomped into the bathroom. 

“Malik,” Rishid said. 

“Don’t encourage him,” Malik snapped. 

“Perhaps I should have given _you_ the drink.”

Bakura spat toothpaste into the sink so he could laugh. He rinsed his mouth and dried it on a hotel towel. Rishid wasn’t a big talker, but when he did pip up, it was usually worth it. 

“I just don’t want to spend the next thirty years waiting for Bakura and Isis to work out bad karma. You can’t blame me for wanting to make a good impression.” 

“I won’t do anything _too_ awful.” Spurred on by Malik’s nervousness, Bakura pulled off his t-shirt and traded it out for something a little less casual. 

“Thank you.” Malik combed Bakura’s hair with his fingers, pressing his lips on Bakura’s forehead when he finished. 

“Let’s get this over with.” Bakura tugged at Malik’s ponytail before walking toward the door. 

Rishid drove them to the restaurant, and they stood near the entrance, waiting for Isis and Mai. Malik’s face lit up when he saw her. He rushed to greet them, hugging Mai briefly, and then giving his sister a longer embrace. 

“You look well. I was afraid you wouldn’t eat enough.” 

“I had personal chefs feeding me.” Malik laughed. 

“I’m relieved to hear about Ryou’s improved condition,” Isis said as they pulled apart from their hug. 

“What’s up, Fortune Cookie?” Bakura smirked.

“What’s good, Snowball?” Isis snapped back. 

Bakura’s jaw dropped, Malik covered his mouth with both of his hands, and Rishid and Mai doubled over laughing. Isis leaned closer to Mai, trying to whisper, but speaking loud enough for them all to hear her past Mai’s laughter. 

“Did I do it wrong?”

“No, no! That was perfect!” Mai shook her head. 

“I’m… a little impressed.” Bakura’s smirk settled into an amused grin. 

“Well, you seem to be so fond of nicknames, we thought you should have one as well.” Isis opened her arms, inviting Bakura to hug her. 

He narrowed his eyes, waiting to see if the gesture would turn into a trap. Rishid nudged him from behind. He glanced at Malik; he didn’t need to see Malik’s face to know Malik was watching to see what happened. With a resigned sigh, Bakura stepped into the hug. Isis squeezed him with a surprisingly sincere amount of strength. Bakura stiffened, but gradually relaxed and even managed to somewhat return the gesture. 

“Welcome home, Bakura,” Isis said as she let go. 

“I…” Bakura’s jaw still hung low. 

He didn’t know what to say or how to respond. He’d been prepared for a confrontation—he would have known how to deal with aggression—but open acceptance? It was unnerving. 

“Face it. You’re part of the family now.” Mai elbowed him.

“It’s true.” Rishid rested a hand on Bakura’s shoulder. 

Streamers of Malik’s joy wrapped around Bakura. All Malik’s stupid happiness infected Bakura, forcing him to smile when he should have bailed and left Malik alone to deal with his own overly-supportive and caring family. Bakura didn’t need another family, he didn’t, he didn’t, he…

“What are we standing outside for? Let’s go eat!” 

Bakura offered an arm to Malik and led him into the restaurant, but Malik pulled out the chair for Bakura when they reached the table. After everyone settled, a waiter came and wrote down their drinks before disappearing. 

“So what’s up with this?” Bakura teased the white streak growing from Isis’ bangs.

“Bakura, don’t be an ass,” Malik growled through clenched teeth. 

“Don’t worry.” Baura winked. “I think I have a few white hairs too.” 

“If it bothered me, I would dye it,” Isis folded a napkin into her lap. “I think it adds character.” 

“You know, you guys could’ve came up with something better than Snowball. How unoriginal.” 

“I’m not sure if any of us are witty enough to beat _Baldy_ ,” Rishid said. 

“Touché.” Bakura shrugged. 

“So what are you going to do now that you’re back in Egypt, Bakura?” Isis asked. 

“Annoy Malik until _he_ has a white streak.”

“Surprised I don’t from the six months we’ve already spent together.” Malik bit into a breadstick. 

“Surely pestering my brother will grow dull after a while. What then?” 

“I promise, pestering your brother will _never_ grow dull.” Bakura smiled as he stared at Malik. He shook his head to draw his attention to the other people at the table. “I’m not sure. I can walk on water, pull a living rabbit from a silk top hat, and spin straw into gold. My other talents involve breaking into tombs and stealing treasure.”

“That’s quite the resume,” Mai said. 

“Jokes aside, what does someone like me do in the modern age?”

“I imagine, as the King of Thieves, you knew where all the tombs were,” Isis said. 

“Sure.”

“And you surely had some way of finding secret passages that other thieves couldn’t reach?”

“Yeah, Diabound can slip through the stone walls so, wait a minute...” Bakura straightened in his seat, narrowing his gaze at Isis. From anyone else, Bakura would suspect the questions were idle small talk, but Isis was an Ishtar, and Ishtars did nothing unintentionally. “What’s this really about?” 

“A team of Egyptian archaeologists recently discovered several tombs we never knew existed, but excavations are slow, and it could take years to map out the structures. If we had a rudimentary map of each one… well, it would certainly speed up the process, wouldn’t it?” 

“Pffft, you _want_ me to break into tombs?”

“I want you to help me preserve history.”

“History is a bedtime story told by those who could afford it. I don’t care if more Pharaohs are forgotten.”

“That’s where I come in,” Rishid said. “Everyone had a story, and if you know where to look, you can piece together not just a pharaoh’s life, but dozens of people around him. Merchants, servants, scribes. I gather every clue I can find and make sure those people are remembered as well.” 

Bakura leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and thinking. “I was going to waste all my free time playing Monster World with Ryou, but… guess I could pencil you guys in—when I feel like it.” 

“I’ll send you the information for our next dig.” Isis smiled. 

“But you need to think of a better nickname for me,” Bakura insisted. 

“Hyacinth?” Isis grinned.

“No.” 

“Onigiri?” Mai suggested. 

“No.”

“Fluffy.” Rishid smiled into his cup of coffee. 

“Oooo, I like that one.” Malik tugged at one of Bakura’s front spikes. 

“Gods no. I don’t want to be in this family anymore. You’re all awful.”

“Too bad. You’re stuck with us, Fluffy.” Malik smiled. 

***

“So, this is my place. If you don’t like it, too damn bad.” Malik stuck his key in the lock, opening the door and turning on several lights as he walked in. 

“It’s not even a mansion. How am I supposed to live like this?” Bakura kicked off his shoes and tossed his duffle bags near Malik’s sofa. The rest of his things were being delivered in a day or two. 

“We’ll have to go to the grocery store tomorrow. I cleaned out the fridge before I left since I knew I’d been gone for awhile.” 

“I got it covered.” Bakura unzipped his backpack, pulling out beef jerky and boxes of pocky. 

“Just don’t cut a hole in my bed, okay?” Malik shook his head. 

“So where are the secret passageways and servants?” Bakura pretended to search the house.

“It’s a plain apartment, I’m afraid, but don’t worry.” Malik grabbed Bakura’s shirt and tugged him close. “I’ll give you a quick tour that ends in the bedroom.”

Bakura blushed, licking his lips and nodding. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Malik. Bakura raised up on his toes and stole a kiss from him. 

“I want to give you something.” Malik slipped one of his gold bracelets onto Bakura’s wrist. 

“Malik?” Bakura stared at the gold flashing against his skin. 

“If you’re going to be an Ishtar, you should wear gold like one.”

Bakura’s heart pounded against his chest. His and Malik’s emotions bled together until he couldn’t tell them apart. He threw his arms around Malik and kissed him again, passionately. Malik tightened his grip on Bakura’s shirt and walked backwards as he dragged Bakura down the hallway. 

“The kitchen is in the other direction. Bathroom is to your left. There’s some other stuff I’ll show you later—did I mention my bedroom?” 

“Any toys in there?” Bakura teased between kisses as they crossed the threshold into the bedroom. 

“Actually, hold that thought. I did buy something.” Malik pulled away, jogging down the hall. He called out as he ran to the living room. “Be naked by the time I come back!” 

Bakura opened his mouth to shout how he didn’t take orders, but he would have fooled neither of them. He ripped the shirt over his head and dropped his pants and boxers to the floor. Bakura flopped down on the bed and spread out for Malik to admire when he returned. With the tip of his finger, Bakura drew lines along the ceiling. Each line turned into a string of lavender lights shaped like plum blossoms. He added pink cherry blossom lights to the corners and soft white lights dangled from the ceiling until the room became a soft glow of colors. In a fit of last minute inspiration, Bakura added a soft shimmer to his skin and hid glowing lights in his hair. He fingered the golden bracelet around his wrist; his chest filled with a soft, yearning feeling. 

“I bought us—oh…” Malik froze in the doorway. 

“Like it?” Bakura asked in a sultry voice. 

“Your hair.” Malik crawled onto the bed, combing Bakura’s hair. “Sweet gods, you’re gorgeous.” 

Bakura danced his fingers through Malik’s hair. He conjured a mirror so Malik could see matching lights twinkling in his own strands. Malik laughed, loud and joyous, and the sound made Bakura fall in love. Over and over he seemed to suffer the exact same fate—fall in love with Malik every time he looked at him or heard him laughing. 

“Cock rings.” Malik blushed. 

“Huh?”

“What I ordered before we left Japan was a set of cock rings, so we can last a little longer.” 

“Want them to glow?” Bakura snapped his fingers and the bands in Malik’s free hand lit up, Malik’s soft lavender and Bakura’s icy blue. 

“You know my kink,” Malik teased as he situated the cock ring around Bakura’s shaft and balls.

He licked Bakura’s cock. Bakura tossed his head toward the ceiling, moaning when Malik’s tongue glided up his skin. Malik kissed Bakura’s tip, swirling his tongue around the hood and kneading Bakura’s balls. 

“Malik!” Bakura called out. 

“Tell me how good it feels,” Malik purred as he tongued Bakura’s shaft. 

“You know _exactly_ how good it feels—literally.” 

“But I want you to scream it.” Malik took Bakura into his mouth, all the way to the base. 

“Oh gods, Malik. Fucking gods. Your… your mouth is s-so warm. And— _ah_ —and wet. And wet. And, gods. Your lips, on, on me—I’m coming!” 

A deep, strong orgasm seized Bakura without warning. His body locked in an arch as he came into Malik’s mouth. Malik choked on a moan as he came with Bakura. They panted for breath, giggling at how much they utterly failed at lasting longer despite the cock rings. 

“Fuck it.” Bakura scrambled up and flipped his and Malik’s positions. “Cheating with magic.” 

He ran his tongue along Malik’s length, licking Malik’s cock clean before slurping it into his mouth and sucking. It was half-flaccid after their climax, but Bakura sucked gently as he circled his finger around Malik’s asshole. Malik sucked in a breath as shivers tingled through both of their bodies. 

“Don’t think… you need magic. Keep going and I’ll…” Malik’s eyes lidded as he hitched his hips. “I’ll be hard again in no time.” 

_But it’s more fun to cheat_ , Bakura spoke through his thoughts so he could continue sucking Malik hard. 

“Great. You already know how I feel, now you’re in my head.” Malik laughed as his fingers toyed with the lights in Bakura’s hair. 

_Kinda like old times._

“I love you,” Malik whispered. 

A jolt tore through Bakura. His cock twitched, blood pooling into both their members from Bakura’s sucking and Malik’s sweet words. 

_I love you, too._

“Use the cockring,” Malik ordered. 

_No in between for you, eh? Going from ‘I love you’ straight to ‘oh baby, cockrings.”_

_I don’t remember calling you ‘baby.’_ Malik thought instead of speaking out loud. 

_Not yet, anyway_. 

Bakura slipped the lavender cockring over Malik’s wet cock. Malik tackled him back to the mattress and smothered Bakura’s body with kisses, stopping at his neck to suck until Bakura was pleading out loud to be fucked. 

“Please, Malik, please. Stuff your fat cock inside of me.” 

_Are you so eager?_

“Fuck yes I’m eager you hot, fucking bitch! Fuck me!” 

_Need to prep you first_. Malik kissed Bakura’s mouth. 

As their tongues swirled together, Bakura used his powers to imagine a string of anal beads made of glowing spheres. He made sure the toy was long enough to use on both of them and stuffed several of the beads into each of their assholes.

“Bakura!” Malik shouted against his lips. “You’re going to make us come too soon again!” 

“Too good. Can’t stop.” 

_Wouldn't stop_ was perhaps the more accurate term, but neither he nor Malik wanted to stop, so he slowly popped the beads out of them, alternating between the two of them so they could feel each one, and then pushed them back in so he could repeat the process. Malik ground against Bakura, thrusting and pushing their cocks against each other. Seconds before they came, Bakura redirected the energy, dispersing it throughout their nerves instead in their cocks. Malik moaned as the warm tingle spread through him. 

“Gods, that felt like light streaming through my body.” 

“Want me to do it again?” Bakura smiled. 

Malik nodded and Bakura recreated the sensation, coursing heka through their nerves. 

“Gods…” Malik closed his eyes. “My god, Bakura, don’t ever stop.” 

“But don’t you want a little more?” Bakura lifted his arms over his head, crossing them at the wrists.

Ribbons of light spiraled up Bakura’s arms, binding him to the bed. Two other ribbons spread his legs wide and held him in place. Malik feasted on the sight of Bakura held hostage by threads of light. The beads disappeared, and Bakura’s asshole gleamed with magically created lube. 

“Don’t make me beg a second time.” Bakura batted his lashes, tempting Malik to take him. 

Malik smashed their lips together. He guided his cock to Bakura’s asshole and pushed inside. Bakura moaned against their kiss. His thighs twitched. Bakura couldn’t resist the urge to wrap his legs around Malik, so he broke his binds and knotted himself around Malik’s waist. Bakura used new ribbons to tie him and Malik together as Malik thrusted into Bakura. Malik gasped as the light brushed against their skin. 

“Oh baby.” Malik’s eyes shut. He bucked into Bakura and Bakura cried out each time he exhaled. 

The pleasure spiraled into Bakura’s belly. He couldn’t hold back this time—not even with magic. His nerves burned in bliss. Every fiber of his being cried out to come with Malik still inside of him. Bakura fed energy into their connection, sharpening their link so Malik felt more than echos of how good he was inside of Bakura. 

“Bakura. Bakura. Bakura. Bakur—”

“Yes! Yes! Yes! Malik! Yes!”

“ _Ah! Ahh!_ Oh my fucking gods!” 

Malik’s thrusts became savage. He rammed into Bakura as hard and fast as he could work his hips, and Bakura needed every second of it. He arched his back, squeezed his ass tightly around Malik’s cock, and they both came singing each other’s names. Bakura poured heka into their orgasm, dragging it out, swelling it and making it bloom like a lotus greeting the sunrise. 

“I love you,” Bakura spoke against Malik’s neck after Malik crashed on top of him. 

“I… love…” Malik gasped for breath. “Welcome home.” 

“Wherever you are, is home.” 

Bakura curled his arm around Malik’s back, drawing over his scars. They no longer hurt, but Bakura used a light healing spell as he traced the old markings. Malik sighed, crushing Bakura in his arms. 

“I love you, Bakura.” 

***

“Yugi! You son-of-a-bitch! That spell does friendly fire!” Bakura shouted, using heal on his lightning-singed shoulder. 

“I’m sorry, Bakura! I didn’t know!” Yugi winced. 

“Dammit! This heal spell sucks! I hate being a level three character.” 

“Here.” Ryou cast cure a second time on Bakura’s wounds. He was also a level three character, but the additional magic finished sewing new skin around Bakura’s arm and easing the pain of the wound. 

“Not to bitch, but that minotaur’s getting ready to do his hammer attack so you guys better start attacking.” Jonouchi charged with his sword, but the beast knocked him aside. 

“You guys play like noobs.” Mai laughed, using a whirlwind spell to distract the minotaur while Malik and Seto both cut his left flank, causing a mild disable status on his movement speed. 

“Ryou! Finish him off!” Seto shouted. 

“Of course!” Ryou summoned a wyvern to lunge at the minotaur, mauling the beast’s chest until he disappeared, leaving only a pile of loot behind.

“Yes! Level up!” Jonouchi cheered. 

“About fucking time.” Bakura pulled up his statsheet, distributing his new skill points to his dexterity and strength. 

“Okay, that’s it for me. I have to start dinner before the kids ground me for playing too many video games.” Mai blew them all a kiss before logging out. 

“Same!” Yugi nodded. “Come on, Jonouchi. We promised to take them to Burger World tonight.”

“All right, see you guys later.” They both waved and disappeared. 

“They always quit too soon.” Ryou frowned. “I’m never going to get through the main storyline at this rate.”

“I tried to warn you. Friends are a weakness.” Seto’s face was stone serious, but they all knew he was joking. 

“Guess we’ll switch back to our first group game,” Malik said. “Even Bakura and I have yet to do all the side quests.” 

“Sounds good.” Ryou grinned.

The four of them switched save files and walked down a dirt path to their next adventure. The shadows were long and dark behind them, but the sun was bright and enormous ahead. 


End file.
